AGAMEMNON'S   DAUGHTER. 


gin 


BY 


DENTON  J.  SNIDER. 


NEW  EDITION. 


ST.  LOUIS. 

SIGMA  PUBLISHING  CO., 

210  PINE  STREET. 

1892. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress  in  the  year  1886, 

Br  DENTON  J.  SNIDER, 
in  the  office  of  the  Librarian  at  Washington,  D.  C. 


Press  of  Nixon- Jonet  Printing  Co. 


CANTO  I.  —  IPHIGENIA  AT  MTCEN^E. 

CO 

Innocence  and  Guilt. 


CANTO  II. — IPHIGENIA  AT  AULIS. 

Sacrifice  and  Eescue 51 

CANTO  III.  —  IPHIGENIA  AT  TAUKIS. 

Service  and  Release 97 

o 

|r    CANTO  IV. —  IPHIGENIA  AT  DELPHI. 

«.$ 

Q  Return  and  Restoration 141 

APPENDIX. — IPHIGENIA  IN  PROSE.  .  187 


tewf  0't&  etwu-an-  •£•&  tee- 


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tn^e 


Canto  First. 


p{fig*nia  at 

Innocence  and  Guilt 


ARGUMENT. 

TJte  scene  of  the  legend  of  Iphigenia  at  Mycence  is 
laid  in  the  city  of  Mycence;  the  incidents  transpire  be 
fore  the  Trojan  War,  and  before  the  abduction  of  Helen, 
though  they  lead  up  to  the  latter  event.  The  story  has 
two  main  points :  the  visit  of  Paris  from  Troy  and  the 
visit  of  Helen  from  Sparta,  into  both  of  which  visits  the 
tale  of  Iphigenia  is  woven. 

I.  Paris  arrives  and  is  received  by  the  king,  Aga 
memnon,  who  has  the  ambition  of  uniting  the  European 
and  Asiatic  branches  of  the  great  Hellenic  people. 
Both  Greeks  and  Trojans  are  Hellenes  (pronounced 
astwo  syllables  in  English),  the  one  with  an  Occidental, 
the  other  with  an  Oriental  tendency. 

By  giving  his  daughter  Iphigenia  in  marriage  to 
Paris,  Agamemnon  hopes  to  accomplish  his  plan.  But 
the  bard,  who  feels  the  inherent  antagonism  of  the  two 
sides,  opposes  theplan,  and  tells  his  dream,  which  pre 
figures  the  grand  conflict  of  the  future.  Iphigenia, 
the  daughter,  opposes  also,  and  will  have  nothing  to  do 
with  Paris.  She  quits  his  presence,  and  secretly  goes 
to  the  fane  of  Artemis,  the  Goddess  of  virgin  purity, 
which  is  in  a  retired  spot  on  the  mountain  above  the 
city.  There  she  receives  from  the  Goddess  the  message 
(6) 


which  announces  the  whole  circle  of  her  life —  her  sacri 
fice,  her  rescue,  her  mission  to  Barbary,  her  return  to 
Hellas. 

Meanwhile  Mycence  is  having  a  merry  time  in  enter 
taining  Paris,  who  charms  all,  both  men  and  women. 
But  there  is  one  of  his  company,  Antenorides,  who  feels 
and  foretells  what  is  coming.  (7. — LIL) 

II.  In  the  midst  of  the  entertainment  Helen  arrives 
from  Sparta  to  take  part  in  the  festival.  The  most 
beautiful  woman  of  the  land  is  received  by  the  King  and 
the  Greeks  with  great  honor  and  admiration.  Iphi- 
genia  comes  from  the  shrine  of  Artemis  and  meets 
Helen,  w/io  recognizes  in  the  maid  a  higher  nature  than 
her  own,  and  receives  from  her  a  token.  But  soon  Helen 
sees  Paris,  who,  after  the  song  in  her  praise  by  the  bard, 
the  voice  of  Greece,  meets  her  and  bids  her  follow  him 
to  Troy.  At  first  she  yields;  then,  coming  upon  Iphi- 
genia,  she  masters  her  fateful  passion,  and  starts  for 
home  the  next  morning  early.  But  she  still  thinks  of 
Paris,  and  on  the  way  she  enters  the  temple  of  Aphro 
dite,  who  bids  her  follow  Paris,  when  a  violent  storm 
arises  through  which  she  fiees  to  Sparta. 

The  people  of  Mycence  know  not  what  to  make  of  her 
sudden  fiight.  Paris  at  once  sets  out  for  home  in  pre 
tense,  but  for  Sparta  in  reality,  though  under  protest  of 
Antenorides.  A  messenger  rides  into  Mycence  and 
announces  the  fiight  of  Helen;  then  Menelaus  himself 
arrives.  The  note  of  war  is  heard  through  Hellas. 
(LIZ7.  to  the  end.) 


(7) 


I. 

O  what  is  this  which  sings  within  the  mind, 
As  round  the  land  of  Hellas  fair  I  tread ! 

O  what  is  this  which  always  I  can  find 
Alive  and  speaking  still,  though  long  since  dead, 
Still  present  to  mine  eyes,  though  it  be  fled 

Thousands  of  years  in  its  Hellenic  glory  ! 
An  ancient  tale  to  modern  music  wed  — 

Hear  now  the  rhyme  and  hearken  to  the  story. 

II. 

It  was  a  golden  day  around  the  towers 

Of  rich  Mycenae  with  her  crown  of  stone ; 
The  Spring  danced  up  the  hill  with  lap  of  flowers, 

Which  she  through  all  the  blooming  plain  had 
strown ; 

The  fragrant  Wind  did  flute  his  sweetest  tone 
Amid  the  bending  branches  of  the  tree ; 

On  every  grassy  plot  Love  built  a  throne, 
The  time  was  full  of  Heaven's  minstrelsy. 

(9). 


10  AGAMEMNOWS  DAUGHTER. 

III. 

The  city  had  a  hill  within  its  wall  — 

And  still  it  may  be  seen,  a  towering  crest  — 
Which  from  its  tireless  watch  looked  down  on  all, 

At  times   like  war's  fierce  eagle  from  its  nest, 

At  times  the  hilltop  heaved  as  if  the  breast 
It  rose  in  swift  response  to  tender  eyes, 

With  gentle  breath  of  poesy  caressed ; 
To-day  it  swells  to  soft  blue  Grecian  skies. 

IV. 
Around  the  maiden  city's  swelling  breast 

Was  drawn  a  wall,  a  moveless  rocky  band, 
Whose  heavy  clasp  her  heart  within  had  pressed, 

Without  had  kept  each  wanton,  lustful  hand; 

Still  every  breeze  strewed  kisses  through  the 

land, 
And  tender  speechless  missives  on  their  way 

Fell  down  the  air,  by  Aphrodite  fanned, 
And  all  declared  it  was  a  golden  day. 

V. 

Then  broke  upon  the  sight  a  pageant  new 

Across  the  grainfields  by  the  sunlit  sea, 
Where  many  a  sail  swan-winged  o'er  the  blue 

Far-quivering  main  was  floating  airily ; 

That  pageant  soon  a  troop  was  seen  to  be, 
Swimming  upon  the  golden  stream  of  morn  ;  ~ 

A  youthful  troop  of  argent  chivalry, 
With  blazons   strange  bedight  and  Orient-born. 


IPHIGENIA  AT  MYCENAE.  11 

VI. 

Paris  of  Troy  the  foremost  lording  hight, 

The  fairest  youth  of  all  the  Trojan  land, 
Within  his  face  he  bore  a  sunrise  bright, 

The  curls   danced  round   his  neck  in  many  a 
strand, 

A  feathery  touch  slept  in  his  tender  hand, 
Love's  smiles  played  from  his  lips  into  his  eye 

Which  coldly  thence  its  charmedobject  scanned  ; 
He  sang  to  harp  sweet  strains  of  poesy. 

VII. 

And  with  him  many  Trojan  gallants  came 

With  lightsome  heads  and  lively  hearts,  save  one 
Who  Antenorides  was  called  by  name, 

Of  noble  father  the  still  nobler  son ; 

He  left  in  Troy  a  maid  whom  he  had  won, 
Who  unto  him,  as  he  to  her,  was  true; 

But  his  great  love  could  never  sadness  shun, 
For  his  deep  soul  presaged  the  day  of  rue. 

VIII. 
The  town  came  forth  to  see  that  troop  of  kings, 

In  shining  pomp  and  grand  festivity ; 
The  altars  smoked  with  fragrant  offerings, 

And  through  the  streets  processions  moved  in 
glee, 

Chariots  dashed  down  the  hill  into  the  lea, 
The  merry  stream  poured  out  the  Lions'  Gate, 

Thrown  open  was  old  Atreus'  treasury, 
And  ancient  fanes  shone  forth  in  golden  state. 


12  AGAMEMNON1  S  DAUGHTER. 

IX. 

King  Agamemnon  moved  with  gracious  cheer, 
He  was  a  lordly  man,  not  old,  not  young  ; 

His  word  was  always  musical  to  hear, 

A  gold-bossed  scepter  in  his  hand  he  swung, 
While  honeyed  speech  dropped  from  his  fluent, 
tongue : 

**  Pour  out  thy  heart  with  us,  O  noble  guest, 
This  stay  of  thine  shall  not  remain  unsung; 

Not  all  of  ours  be  thine,  but  all  our  best. 

X. 

"  Thy  glorious  name  before  thee  crossed  the  sea, 

Thy  gracious  form,  the  sweetness  of  thy  word ; 
Friends  with  the  Trojan  folk  I  fain  would  be, 

And  knit  a  bond  whereof  no  soul  has  heard ; 

Deep  in  my  heart  to-day  I  am  bestirred 
To  break  the  barrier  of  yon  blue  salt  flood ; 

See  there !  above  us  wheels  the  favoring  bird 
To  join  all  Hellenes  in  one  brotherhood." 

XI. 

A  look  he  cast  upon  his  daughter  fair, 

Iphigenia,  stainless  at  his  side ; 
The  moment  Paris  bent  his  glances  there, 

She  hung  her  head,  her  eyes  to  earth  she  tied, 

The  stranger's  look  she  could  not  well  abide  ; 
She  turned  away  and  hurried  through  the  crowd, 

For  in  some  secret  nook  she  thought  to  hide, 
Far  from  the  festival  and  tumult  loud. 


IP  LUG  EN  I  A  AT  MYCENAE.  13 

XII. 

Back  of  the  court  she  had  a  garden  seat, 

Where  she  had  nourished  many  a  loving  flower ; 

These  were  her  friends  whom  daily  she  would  meet 
To  hold  mute  converse  for  the  passing  hour, 
And  over  them  she  held  a  gentle  power  ; 

Oft  would  they  seem  to  bloom  her  future  ways, 
Of  pain  and  gain  foreshow  the  fitful  shower, 

The  silent  destiny  in  fairest  days. 

XIII. 

To  his  high  palace  Agamemnon  sped, 

He  set  before  his  guests  a  banquet  rare, 
The  wine  soon  flashed  each  face  with  sunsets  red, 

The  courtly  tongues  were  cloyed  with  dainty 
fare; 

Many  an  Argive  chieftain  too  was  there, 
Out  high-hilled  cities  of  the  land  they  came, 

And  mingled  with  the  Trojans  killing  care, 
And  much  they  honored  the  great  Prince's  name. 

XIV. 

Paris  led  off  in  festive  merriment, 

His  Trojans  well  the  beaded  cup  could  tease  ; 
Their  song  of  wine  with  that  of  women  blent 

Revealed  the  heart  in  all  its  hid  degrees  ; 

But  other  strains  heard  Antenorides, 
As  he  looked  on  and  that  mad  revel  saw; 

For  in  the  wine  he  could  behold  the  lees, 
And  could  in  license  read  avenging  law. 


14  AGAMEMNON1  S  DAUGHTER. 

XV. 

Yet  one  relief  he  had  of  suffering, 
A  single  bliss  in  Hellas  he  could  find, 

It  was  to  see  the  daughter  of  the  king ; 
She  raised  to  life  within  his  boding  mind 
The  image  of  the  Love  he  left  behind, 

And  darted  through  him  gleams  of  happiness 
For  one  sweet  hour;  but  then  again  he  pined, 

And  saw  his  lady  pallid  in  distress. 

XVI. 

A  bard  there  was  who  in  the  palace  sang , 
An  aged  holy  man  who  much  had  seen ; 

Of  sorrow  he  had  known  the  deepest  pang, 
Of  joy  had  felt  the  finest  rapture,  keen 
Within  his  soul  full  strung;  at  Thebes  had  been 

Twice  with  the  seven  Argive  chiefs,  who  sought 
By  the  pure  fire  to  make  that  city  clean 

Of  its  old  fateful  taint  from  Asia  brought. 

XVII. 

Defeat  and  victory  had  been  his  life, 

Once  he  had  lost  at  Thebes  his  chieftains  all ; 
Then  he  beheld  renewed  the  deadly  strife, 

And  the  proud  town  one  heap  of  ashes  fall. 

Of  changeful  destiny  he  was  the  thrall, 
His  heart  became  a  harp  of  many  strings, 

Which  Fate  would  strike  to  make  her  madrigal, 
Whence  sparkles  fell  of  all  melodious  things. 


IPEIGENIA  AT  MYCEtf^E.  15 

XVIII. 

The  Muses  gave  to  him  a  voice  divine 

The  famous  deed  heroical  to  sing ; 
He  hymned  his  Grecian  soul  in  every  line  — 

That  soul  the  world  to  harmony  could  bring, 

And  see  its  image  in  the  smallest  thing  ; 
But  what  his  people  felt,  he  saw  with  eyes, 

He  flew  before  them  high  on  eagle's  wing, 
Discerned  the  speck  across  the  farthest  skies. 

XIX. 

He  felt  the  struggle  coming  on  afar, 

The  burden  of  his  song  was  Zeus' s  hest; 

He  knew  that  in  the  Trojan  lay  the  war 

Which  Greek  must  end  by  voyages  tmblest, 
And  by  a  ten  years'  time  of  wild  unrest; 

That  bard  —  he  was  a  man  born  into  all, 

His  glance  he  threw  beyond  the  mountain  crest, 

Where  he  the  Future  saw  and  heard  it  call. 

XX. 

To  Agamemnon  now  these  words  he  spake ; 

«*  I  bear  to  thee  my  heavy  soul,  O  king; 
To-day  I  fear  thou  wilt  thyself  unmake, 

Thy  mind  soars  up  beyond  all  reckoning  ; 

Across  the  seas  thy  thought  has  taken  wing, 
While  one  now  walks  thy  court  in  silent  quest 

The  jewel  of  our  Greece  to  Troy  to  bring; 
That  man  beware,  beware  the  fateful  guest. 


16  AGAMEMNON'S  DAUGHTER. 

XXI. 

"  I  saw  him  in  my  dazzled  dream  last  night 

Fulfill  the  perfect  circle  of  his  deed; 
What  is  already  done,  was  but  a  mite, 

A  little  point  flashed  with  a  burning  glede ; 

More  swiftly  ran  the  point  than  any  steed 
As  it  sped  round  to  what  was  next  to  be  ; 

The  Future  slid  into  my  vision,  freed 
From  that  dark  line  which  is  Time's  boundary. 

XXII. 

"  High  over  Troy  that  point  a  blaze  became, 

It  lit  and  flared  on  Paris'  swollen  sail, 
The  raging  Hellespont  upsprang  in  flame, 

Outburning  all  Jove's  lightning  and  the  gale; 

Into  Mycenae  swept  the  fiery  trail, 
Then  back  it  streamed  with  tenfold  passion  dire; 

The  sea-foam,  Aphrodite's  mother  pale, 
Flamed  round  the  ship  and  set  the  waves  on  fire. 

XXIII. 

"  In  his  returning  ship  I  saw  to  be 

What  brings  to  sons  of  men  the  most  delight, 
The  highest  prize  of  lofty  minstrelsy, 

The  soul  that  thrills  into  the  sense  of  sight, 

The  look  that  suns  the  world  in  newer  light ; 
Then  many  warriors  follow  on  the  wave, 

They  fill  a  plain  and  soon  begin  a  fight 
The  stolen  prize  of  their  own  land  to  save." 


IPHIGENIA  AT  MYCENAE.  17 

XXIV. 

To  him  replies  then  Agamemnon  proud: 

"  Great  now  in  Hellas  is  my  sovereign  power! 

Of  men  to  serve  I  cannot  count  the  crowd, 
Of  islands  of  the  sea  I  have  the  flower, 
Beneath  this  scepter  wild  Arcadians  cower, 

The  Isthmus  links  two  mighty  seas  for  me, 
Two  continents  it  joins  in  one  high  tower 

Which  shows  me  forth  to  rule  all  Barbary. 

XXV. 

"  But  now  I  bend  my  look  across  the  sea, 
This  day  to  Asia  I  shall  reach  my  hand, 

And  of  Troy's  citadel  the  taker  be, 

And  towns  and  fields  to  farthest  Phrygian  land, 
By  that  which  I  have  in  my  bosom  planned  ; 

To  Priam's  son  I  shall  my  daughter  wed, 
Troy  and  Mycenae  shall  together  stand, 

Or  shall  together  lie  with  cities  dead." 

XXVI. 

Forthright  the  father  sought  that  garden  spot, 
His  daughter's  mind  in  gentle  wise  to  test, 

He  found  her  deep  within  a  darksome  grot, 
Where  but  a  single  sunbeam,  doubly  blest 
Played  down  her  forehead  and  her  lips  caressed  : 

"  Why  hast  thou  fled  away  beyond  my  call? 
Fill  up  the  festal  day  with  thy  full  zest, 

Prince  Paris  now  awaits  thee  in  the  hall." 


18  AGAMEMNON'S  DAUGHTER. 

XXVII. 

The  maiden  suddenly  became  a  prayer  ; 

Upon  the  world  she  gazed  with  deep  blue  eyes, 
Wherein  it  melted  to  a  vision  fair, 

And  rose  with  music  sweet  unto  the  skies, 

As  earth  might  turn  a  sudden  Paradise ; 
It  was  her  gift  to  change  the  small  and  bad, 

Till  both  to  boundless  good  together  rise  ; 
Yet  in  her  glance  a  suffering  she  had. 

XXVIII. 
Of  the  rich  summer  time  she  was  the  flower 

That  dwells  beside  the  wild,  far-flashing  sea  ; 
To  look  beyond  she  had  a  subtle  power, 

A  gleam  she  threw  into  infinity 

And  there  another  world  could  plainly  see  ; 
Mirrored  the  man  she  saw  in  every  motion, 

Born  in  her  glance  was  all  he  was  to  be, 
His  hidden  genius  on  its  hidden  ocean. 

XXIX. 

Gentle  the  maiden  spoke  her  word,  but  strong : 
"  The  stranger  who  has  come  from  Troy  to 
day- 
Father,  I  would  not  do  him  any  wrong, 
But  when  I  think  of  him,  I  cannot  pray 
To  purest  Artemis  who  is  my  stay ; 
His  glances  light  the  air  but  to  cajole, 

To  heart  he  never  will  a  heart  repay, 
I  cannot  think  he  loves  one  human  soul." 


IPHI&ENIA  AT  MYCENAE.  19 

XXX. 

The  father  quenched  his  angry  flash,  and  smiled  : 
'*  Oh  let  no  more  the  winds  foreboding  sigh 

Through  all  thy  young  and  sunny  days,  my  child  ! 
Let  minutes  now  be  mad,  and  wildly  fly 
Round  thee  and  Paris  mid  our  revelry. 

Not  often  such  a  day  shines  on  our  towers ! 
The  ancient  Sun  upon  our  stones  doth  lie, 

And  pours  the  city  full  of  golden  hours." 

XXXI. 

He  turned  because  he  heard  the  trumpet's  blare 
Hurrying  to  his  ear  leap  after  leap, 

As  if  a  war  steed  galloped  through  the  air, 
Bearing  a  message  o'er  a  mountain  steep, 
To  rouse  the  soldier  on  his  guard  asleep  ; 

The  King  in  haste  turned  back  to  find  his  guest, 
But  he  could  catch  a  word  that  he  should  keep, 

A  woeful  word  torn  out  his  daughter's  breast ; 

XXXII. 

"I  feel  my  foe  has  come  and  I  shall  reap 

The  harvest  ripe  which  he  this  day  will  sow  ; 

For  deed  of  his  I  long  shall  have  to  weep, 
As  Ida's  maids  now  melt  the  mountain  snow 
With  tears  for  his  deep  wrongs ;  I  shall  not  go 

With  him  to  Troy ;  oh  let  me  die  forlorn 
In  Greece !  To  me  and  mine  he  is  the  foe, 

And  him  I  feel  the  foe  to  Time  unborn." 


20  AGAMEMNON'S  DAUGHTER. 

XXXIII. 

There  stands  high  up  above  the  town  a  fane 
Whose  marble  front  peeps  out  the  thicket  green, 

And  every  stone  a  softened  tint  hath  ta'en 
Purer  than  any  pearl  was  ever  seen 
Washed  in  the  waters  of  an  ocean  clean  ; 

The  leaflets  flutter  noiseless  round  the  side, 
The  tree-tops  to  thereof  do  fondly  lean, 

The  jewel  of  the  wood  within  to  hide. 

XXXIV. 

The  timid  deer  sports  there  without  alarm, 
The  wary  bird  need  there  no  trapper  fear, 

It  was  a  spot  where  man  dared  do  no  harm, 
Peace  reigneth  in  that  wood  for  all  the  year, 
The  fountain's  modest  joy  one  scarce  will  hear, 

As  it  wells  out  beneath  a  root  of  might, 
And  trails  in  crystal  pure  a  leaflet  sere, 

Or  paints  a  tender  stain  on  pebble  white. 

XXXV. 

In  secret  soon  the  maiden  thither  fled, 

She  wound  with  the  transparent  happy  rill, 

That  to  the  fane  up  in  the  greenwood  led, 
Along  a  channel  sweet  with  many  a  trill, 
Whereby  she  moved  through  music  up  the  hill ; 

A  pretty  fawn  she  saw  within  a  grot 

To  slake  its  thirst  beside  the  forest  still, 

Then  pass  before  her  to  the  sacred  spot. 


IPHIGENIA  AT  MYCENAE.  21 

XXXVI. 

It  was  a  pretty  dappled  timid  thing 

That  trembled  to  its  silvery  spots  of  hair, 

Then  faded  from  the  margent  of  the  spring, 
As  if  it  saw  within  the  waters  there 
Some  ugly  image  of  a  brutish  bear ; 

But  as  it  fled,  it  ran  into  a  cloud 

Whence  flowed  soft  strains  upon  the  forest  air, 

Of  flute  and  song  mid  rustling  of  a  crowd. 

XXXVII. 

At  once  broke  out  of  music  to  the  glance 

Bright  wreaths  of  maidens  floating  in  the  breeze, 
And  to  the  strain  they  soon  began  a  dance 

Upon  the  vacant  air  and  through  the  trees  ; 

But  scarce  the  eye  their  fleeting  shapes  could 

seize, 
Until  they  wheeled  above  the  secret  fane; 

Hovering  down  the  sky  they  dropped  with  ease, 
While  to  a  distant  lull  had  died  the  strain. 

XXXVIII. 

This  was  the  home  of  Dian,  these  her  woods 
Where  oft  the  Goddess  rested  from  the  chase, 

When  she  amid  the  sylvan  solitudes 

Had  led  her  choir  in  the  tumultuous  race 
And  of  that  sport  the  air  long  felt  the  trace, 

Though  the  gay  rout  had  faded  all  away ; 

It  was  the  soft  worn  heart's  own  resting  place, 

Far  from  the  town,  and  the  bold  stare  of  day. 


22  AGAMEMNON' S  DAUGHTER. 

XXXIX. 

A  billowy  moon-tipped  play  of  fold  on  fold 
Waved  through  the  middle  of  that  multitude  ; 

The  wreath  was  broke,  and  one  might  then  behold 
A  form  that  stepped  into  the  fane  and  stood, 
While  all  the  train  of  Nymphs  fled  through  the 
wood, 

Some  to  delight  in  oaks  and  some  in  water ; 
Then  spake  the  queen  of  that  sweet  sisterhood 

In  fond  low  tones  to  Agamemnon's  daughter: 

XL. 
"  Beware  the  handsome  man  within  thy  walls  ! 

His  eyes'  soft  sunbeams  are  a  sea  of  ill, 
Within  his  slippery  words  lie  many  falls 

For  those  who  touch  the  circle  of  his  will ; 

Float  not  upon  the  raptured  waves  that  thrill 
Out  of  his  being,  by  Aphrodite's  breath 

Stirred  to  a  frenzy  that  the  world  shall  fill, 
And  sweep  the  woman  with  the  man  to  death. 

XLI. 

"  Thee  have  I  chosen  for  another  deed, 

Thou  art  to  be  the  vase  of  suffering ; 
The  Trojan  love  shall  never  be  thy  meed, 

But  a  new  love  thy  life  to  light  will  bring; 

And  yet  thou  too  wilt  not  escape  the  sting 
Which  the  high  Gods  in  greatest  deeds  bestow ; 

For  lands,  for  worlds  thou  art  the  offering, 
But  I  shall  save  thee  at  the  last  sharp  blow. 


IPHIGENIA  AT  MYCENAE.  23 

XLII. 

"  And  I  shall  bear  thee  to  a  foreign  land, 
Where  thou  a  holy  priestess  art  to  be 

Within  my  temple  on  the  wild  sea's  strand, 
Where  broods  a  world  of  slavish  savagery, 
Which  is,  by  deed  of  thine,  to  be  made  free. 

This  is  the  Love  which  now  in  thee  hath  gleamed, 
And  not  before  thou  hast  brought  liberty 

Unto  that  land,  art  thou  thyself  redeemed. 

XLIII. 

"  O  virgin,  I  am  Artemis,  the  Queen, 

I  roam  the  wood,  I  ramble  in  the  sky ; 
My  silver  bow  hung  there  thou  oft  hast  seen, 

Illuming  night  with  modest  purity  ; 

To  thee  of  all  mankind  I  feel  most  nigh, 
Upon  my  path  in  Heaven  the  brightest  star 

Is  thine,  dispensing  light  to  Barbary; 
Go  forth  and  softly  shine  with  me  afar. 

XLIV. 

"  After  long  years  to  this  old  home  of  thine, 

The  Hellas  new,  thou  shalt  in  joy  return ; 
My  brother  Phcebus  calls  thee  to  his  shrine, 

Where  thou  shalt  teach  the  world  what  it  must 
learn  — 

A  duty  new  in  living  to  discern ; 
By  thee,  his  seeress,  shall  his  fane  be  trod, 

A  higher  priesthood  shall  thy  exile  earn, 
Thou  art  to  be  the  voice  of  wisdom's  God. 


24  AGAMEMNOWS  DAUGHTER. 

XLV. 

"  There  on  old  rocky  Pytho's  deep-cleft  crest 
In  light  thou  shalt  sit  down  with  speech  re 
newed, 

When  the  great  war  is  over,  and  holy  rest 
Settles  upon  the  land  in  golden  mood 
Of  sun  and  song  and  blissful  plenitude  ; 

The  far  Barbarian's  love,  aye  and  his  sword 
'Tis  thine  to  bring  to  Hellas  for  her  good; 

Kestoring  her,  thou  art  thyself  restored." 

XLVI. 

The  Goddess  vanished  from  the  maiden's   look, 
But  left  her  in  the  glimmer  of  a  dawn 

Through  which  did  faint  away  the  tuneful  brook, 
And  through  whose  milky  haze  she  saw  the  fawn 

Dart  trembling  from  the  wood  across  a  lawn, 
By  men  pursued  with  axes  flashing  bright, 
Till  in  the  rosy  distance  it  was  gone 

Behind  the  hills,  whence  shot  anew  the  light. 

XLVII. 

There  long  she  stayed,  nor  did  her  people  know 
Whither  the  maid  this  merry  while  had  fled; 

Meantime  Mycenae  had  an  overflow 
Of  earth  below  and  heaven  overhead, 
Of  wine  and  sunshine  which  all  golden  shed 

Upon  that  happy  feast  their  richest  showers, 
And  lightly  mid  the  throng  the  Muses  led 

And  lulled  to  rest  the  swifty-stepping  Hours. 


IPHIGENIA  AT  MYCENAE.  25 

XLVIII. 

It  was  time  of  sweet  forgetfulness, 

When  Lethe  hands  to  men  her  deepest  draught, 
For  which  full  pay  she  asks  —  a  fierce  distress 

When  they  awake  and  feel  the  poisoned  shaft, 

Whereof  there  is  no  cure  in  human  craft, 
But  in  hot  blood-drops  gurgling  from  war's  blow, 

When  Furies  have   upon  the  nations  laughed 
Their  diabolic  scorn  and  overthrow. 

XLIX. 

Ah  yes,  it  was  a  merry  cheery  day, 

Paris  the  gallant  Trojan  conquered  all, 

His  Asian  tongue  could  lisp  a  Grecian  lay, 
And  sweetest  accents  mingle  in  its  fall; 
E'en  proud  Queen  Clytemnestra  was  a  thrall 

Of  that  soft  spell  which  men  were  forced  to  own ; 
He  made  the  people  whisper,  great  and  small, 
"  Lo  !  he  has  stolen  Aphrodite's  zone." 

L. 

Each  minstrel  sought  to  sing  his  bravest  song 
Of  heroes  great  and  the  heroic  deed ; 

Of  war  between  the  Gods  and  Giants  strong, 
Of  captive  maid  by  doughty  warrior  freed, 
Of  hearts  that  must  with  all  men's  sorrow  bleed, 

Of  Theseus  bold,  of  suffering  Hercules 
Who  hath  of  heroes  won  the  golden  meed, 

As  he  who  can  endure  until  himself  he  frees. 


26  AGAMEMNON'S  D  AUGHT  Eli. 

LI. 

But  the  one  song  that  people  heard  above 
All  others  sung  upon  that  fatal  day 

With  maddest  sting  —  it  was  the  song  of  love. 
From  every  street  uprose  the  dulcet  lay, 
Tingling  the  blood  to  fancy's  tricksy  play, 

And  hymning  viewless  nets  by  Eros  wove, 
Which  tangled  mortals  in  the  fateful  fray 

And  caught  the  highest  God,  old  father  Jove. 

LIT. 

O  Antenorides,  what  silence  deep 
Broods  over  thee  amid  the  festival ! 

He  marked  a  moving  eye  that  knew  no  sleep, 
He  heard  Cassandra's  far  forewarning  call 
Through  revel  moan  like  distant  waterfall ; 

Many  a  ghostly  shape  before  him  stood, 
And  drew  a  bloody  sign  upon  the  wall 

Mid  whisperings  low:  It  cannot  come  to  good. 

LIII. 

But  look  beyond,  there  comes  a  distant  train 
Slow-winding  o'er  the  blue  Arcadian  hills, 

Like  a  sea-serpent  of  the  richest  stain 

It  swims  and  every  heart  with  beauty  thrills, 
Yet  with  prophetic  flashings  of  its  ills; 

It  rears  its  crest  above  the  verdant  height, 
The  little  vales  with  lambent  streak  it  fills, 

Swimming  the  landwaves  green  into  the  sight. 


IPEIGENIA  AT  MYCENAE.  27 

LIV. 

In  gorgeous  curves  rolled  on  the  beauteous  thing, 
As  it  unfolded  in  the  haze  of  afternoon, 

And  sweet  delirious  currents  it  did  bring 
Into  the  eye,  and  make  the  daylight  swoon 
Away  to  dreamy  glimmers  of  the  moon  ; 

But  in  the  sky  above  there  hung  a  frown, 
A  cloud  that  made  a  dismal  threat,  but  soon 

That  cloud  had  melted  to  a  golden  crown. 

LV. 

'Twas  Helen  coming  up  from  Lacedemon, 
In  bright  Mycenae's  joy  awhile  to  stay, 

And  see  the  festival  of  Agamemnon, 

The  song,  the  dance,  and  the  procession  gay 
With  the  sweet  bloom  of  manhood  in  its  May ; 

Iphigenia  too  she  longed  to  see, 
Both  women  live  together  in  my  lay, 

Twinned  deep  in  storied  old  calamity. 

LVI. 

But  now  she  comes,  the  glorious  Spartan  Helen, 
Into  the  Argive  plain  she  bursts  like  day, 

And  with  her  a  new  world  for  men  to  dwell  in, 
Life,  weary  theme,  becomes  a  happy  play, 
To  Gods  serene  is  turned  the  human  clay, 

Of  an  Elysian  change  she  hath  the  power, 
Beneath  her  glance   each  tree   throws  out   a 
spray, 

And   where   she   treads,   the  earth  sends   up    a 
flower. 


28  AGAMEMNON* S  DAUGHTER. 

LVII. 

She  moves  to  Lions'  Gate  the  fairest  woman ; 

The  stony  Lions'  Heads  peep  out  their  lair 
Above  the  rock-built  portal,  with  traces  human 

Of  Love's  sweet  trouble  for  that   being  rare, 

Whom  they  within  the   walls  will  guard  with 

care 
As  they  the  city  guard  and  its  wise  laws ; 

To  glances  soft  drops  down  their  savage  glare 
And  tender-hearted  grow  ferocious  claws. 

LVIII. 

The  people  line  her  way  along  the  street, 
The  heroes  bold  take  on  an  humble  air, 

And  in  their  hearts  adore  that  shape  complete  ; 
The  children  stand  in  little  groups  and  stare, 
Wishing  that  the}^  had  Helen's  golden  hair, 

Or  hand,  or  her  white  robe  of  fold  on  fold ; 
Even  the  women  must  pronounce  her  fair, 

When  they  her  failings  all  had  scanned  and  told. 

LIX. 

Within  the  walls  there  stands  a  palace  high, 
Whose  court  is  girt  with  many  columns  white, 

And  there  the  silver  fountains  gaily  ply 
The  fragrant  air  with  jets  of  crystal  bright, 
Or  send  along  the  sand  swift  streams  of  light, 

Wreathing  around  the  feet  of  boys  of  stone, 
Who  hold  their  torches  in  the  eye  of  night, 

Or  lean  beside  a  kingly  carven  throne. 


IPIIIGENIA  AT  MYCENAE.  29 

'£» 

LX.  / 

Those  graven  boys  will  stir  frmaa  spot  to  spot, 

They  have  a  life  within  thpfr  marble  breast, 
For  ever  fixed  in  motion  ;#/their  lot, 

Forever  moved  by  passion  is  their  rest ; 

So  has  their  Maker  on  their  form  impressed, 
With  heart-beats  all  his  own  a  double  soul, 

Which  he  himself  in  struggle  long  possessed, 
Ere  he  could  make  the  warring  twain  one  whole. 

LXI. 

Beneath  a  chiseled  shape  of  youthful  maid, 
Who  coyly  touched  with  dainty  finger  tip 

Her  own  chaste  bosom,  full  of  thoughts  unsaid 
Of  that  sweet  hour  which  brings  the  lip  to  lip, 
From  whose  deep  rubied  flower  lovers  sip 

Busy  as  bees  —  there  Helen  sat  in  state; 
Into  all  Grecian  hearts  her  glances  slip 

Never  to  be  forgotten  —  it  is  their  fate. 

LXII. 
She  greets  the  thronging  heroes  one  by  one  ; 

Lord  Agamemnon  speaks  the  golden  word : 
"  Hail,  Helen,  coming  like  the  singing  Sun; 

Through  thee  what  lies  within  us  dark  or  blurred 

Breaks  out  the  brightest  strain  that  time  hath 

heard ; 
That  look  of  thine  shall  be  forever  ours, 

And  thine  our  hearts,  for  thee  to  battle  stirred  : 
Hear  while  we  swear  it,  ye  Olympian  Powers." 


30  AGAMEMNOW S  DAUGHTER. 

LXIII. 

All  shouted  loud  applause,  the  oath  they  swore, 
Heard  by  the  Gods  above  in  council  deep, 

Who  then  resolved  the  casket  to  outpour, 
Which,  full  of  evils,  they  beside  them  keep 
For  man,  lest  he  in  sloth  may  fall  asleep, 

Or  may  for  fateful  deed  unpunished  go ; 
Whereby  the  innocent  must  ever  weep, 

Yoked  with  the  guilty  in  the  chain  of  woe. 

LXIV. 

Meantime  from  Dianas  fane  within  the  wood 

The  maiden  Iphigenia  homeward  sped, 
And  soon  beside  the  restless  brook  she  stood 

Which  leaps  beneath  the  towers  to  its  bed  ; 

Many  a  thought  was  whirling  through  her  head 
Of  that  strange  life  of  hers  which  was  to  be ; 

The  bodeful  words  the  Goddess  to  her  said, 
Fell  cascades  dark  down  to  a  sunlit  sea. 

LXV. 

She  passed  within  the  court  where  Helen   stood, 

Who  spake  a  tender  greeting  as  she  came ; 
"  Sweet  maid !  thou  hast  upon  thy  face  a  mood 

Which  calls  the  faithless  world  by  a  new  name ; 

Before  thee  I  confess  I  feel  a  shame 
That  I  cannot  attain  to  what  thou  art ; 

How  gladly  would  I  change  for  thee  my  fame, 
And  in  my  life  feel  full  thy  steadfast  heart ! 


IFHIGENIA  AT  MYCENAE.  31 

LXVI. 

"  Deep  longing  for  I  know  not  what,  I  had; 

But  when  I  see  thee  I  am  whole  again ; 
I  cannot  tell  what  makes  me  feel  so  sad, 

Oft  must  I  shed  my  tears  without  a  pain, 

Without  a  cloud  it  could  forever  rain ; 
Oh  I  am  rent  in  twain,  I  can  but  wail, 

The  other  part  of  me  I  seek  in  vain, 
Methinks  thou  hast  it  —  tell  me  now  thy  tale." 

LXVII. 

«*  I  have  no  tale,  O  lovely  tears,"  she  said, 

"  But  let  me  give  instead  this  little  ring, 
Within  doth  sleep  a  gem,  in  golden  bed, 

A  little  token  of  my  heart  I  bring ; 

But  let  it  nestle  in  its  covering 
Lest  it  be  lost,  and  lose  its  setting  too ; 

When  coming  trials  leave  in  thee  a  sting, 
Perchance  it  may  hint  help  to  bear  thee  through. 

LXVIII. 

"  Ah  were  I  but  an  hour  so  fair  as  thou! 

But  as  I  am  I  shall  contented  be ; 
I  look  so  gladly  on  thy  shining  brow, 

And  yet  a  line  of  pain  I  there  can  see, 

An  agony  that  struggles  to  get  free. 
Can  suffering  interlock  with  beauty  so? 

At  whom  lookst  thou  ?     That  is  young  Paris,  he 
Who  came  from  Troy  to-day,  as  thou  maystknow." 


32  AGAMEMNON'S  DAUQHTEB. 

LXIX. 

The  crowd  broke  in  with  noisy  reverence, 
Their  prayers  rapt  by  deep-lost  looks  to  say 

Before  that  form  divine  ;  without  defense, 
Iphigenia  lone  was  swept  away 
On  living  surges  crazy  with  delay ; 

Many  a  gallant  Greek  crushed  in,  one  glance 
To  get  far  dearer  to  him  than  the  day, 

And  stood  in  worship  sunk  as  if  in  trance. 

LXX. 

And  Paris  came  and  all  his  Trojan  band, 
To  gaze  on  her  whom  men  agreed  to  call 

The  fairest  woman  of  the  Grecian  land, 
With  them  a  guest  now  in  Mycenae's  hall, 
And  Helen  had  a  winsome  word  for  all ;          * 

But  when  on  Paris  she  had  turned  her  look,  \J 
Each  was  the  other's  victor  and  the  thralL/* 

Each  read  the  other's  fate  as  in  a  book. 

LXXI. 

But  hark !  the  bard  begins  a  song  in  praise 
Of  Argive  Helen,  Lacedemon's  Queen  ; 

Strong  are  the  words  whereof  he  builds  his  lays, 
And  sweet  the  cadence  falling  in  between. 
Dropping  like  skyey  notes  from  choirs  unseen  : 

"  O  thou,  of  all  our  hearts  the  very  heart, 
Of  our  fair  stock  the  branch  forever  green, 

What  Hellas  is  in  all  her  best,  thou  art. 


IPHIGENIA  AT  MYCENAE.  33 

LXXII. 
"For  thee  we  give  with  joy  this  pearl  of  life, 

For  thee  our  city  and  its  law  are  naught, 
For  thee  with  tears  our  children  and  our  wife 

We  leave,  and  let  them  die  at  home  distraught, 

While  we  shall  haste  to  distant  battle  fraught 
With  danger  unto  thee  and  thy  fair  form; 

When   once  the  bosom's  guest   is    thy  sweet 

thought, 
Farewell  our  home  of  peace  and  welcome  storm. 

LXXIII. 
"  From  our  deep  fealty  to  what  is  thine 

Doth  trill,  of  all  our  life,  the  sweetest  drop; 
To  us  doth  pour  from  thee  a  stream  divine, 

Which  fills  our  human  lot  unto  the  top 

With  singing  floods  of  joy  that  never  stop 
E'en  in  the  tempest  or  the  whirlwind's  blast, 

Though  we  be  dashed  with  all  the  ills  that  drop 
From  out  the  skies,  and  smite  the  world  aghast. 

LXXIV. 

"  For  thine  own  honor  lives  heroic  song, 

The  tune  of  flutes,  the  touch  of  thin-shelled  lyre ; 

In  many-folded  robes  the  Graces  sweep  along, 
Who  the  dear  maidens  in  the  dance  inspire 
To  be  as  thou  art,  fairest  of  the  choir; 

Youth  hands  to  thee  her  overflow  of  wine 
Lit  with  the  sparkle  of  Olympian  fire  ; 

Ere  Hebe  fills  Jove's  beaker,  fills  she  thine. 


34  AGAMEMNON' S  DAUGHTER. 

LXXV. 

"  The  mighty  Gods  forthee  come  down  to  earth, 
And  in  a  burst  of  joy  their  forms  reveal ; 

The  Muses  sing  themselves  to  sudden  birth 
In  strains  of  thine,  to  lighten  and  to  heal 
Our  being' spain,  which  the  born  man  must  feel, 

While  he  shall  stain  with  tears  his  prison  bars  ; 
The  man  must  sorrow  know  as  manhood's  seal, 

To  take  within  his  boundary  the  stars. 

LXVI. 
"  The  sword  waits  in  its  sheath  on  thy  behalf, 

And  always  we  shall  have  to  draw  it  too; 
Our  life  for  thee  we  offer  with  a  laugh, 

Demand  it  now,  the  gift  is  always  due  ; 

If  false  to  all,  to  thee  we  shall  be  true ; 
The  price  we  pay  for  what  of  thine  we  get, 

Who  beauty  loves,  must  ever  beauty  rue, 
This  law  the  Gods  on  mortal  men  have  set." 

LXXVIL 

So  sang  the  bard,  and  from  his  heart  he  sang ; 

He  knew  the  Future,  Present,  and  the  Past ; 
He  knew  the  joy  of  beauty  and  its  pang, 

Love  gave  him  bitter-sweet  unto  the  last, 

Though  the  white   years   upon   his  head  had 

massed ; 
Love  made  him  young,  but  also  gave  him  sorrow, 

While  Poesy  did  wing  him  for  the  blast, 
That  where  he  fell  to-day,  he  rose  to-morrow. 


IPHIGENIA  AT  MYCENAE.  35 

LXXVIII. 
But  Helen  glided  softly  out  the  throng, 

A  sudden  pain  she  felt,  a  double  pain; 
She  felt  old  burdens  of  that  poet's  song 

Keturn  and  press  upon  her  life  again  ; 

And  with  them  now  a  burden  new  did  strain 
Her  heart-strings  tense,  already  sorely  weighed  ; 

Soon  Paris  had  her  footsteps  overta'en, 
He  knew  his  prize  and  in  a  whisper  said : 

LXXIX. 
1 '  In  thy  first  look  the  Gods  declared  thee  mine  ; 

Not  Hellas  is  thy  worthy  dwelling  place, 
Go  with  me  to  the  East,  where  thou  shalt  shine 

The  rising  sun  upon  a  starry  race; 

Leave  homely  duty  to  the  homely  face ; 
Choose  now  a  life  of  love  with  me  to  roam, 

Leave   thy  dull  husband  here,    and   his  dull 

days, 
Quit  rocky  Sparta  —  Troy  shall  be  thy  home." 

LXXX. 

But  faintly  Helen  stemmed  his  strong  command : 
"  Oh  can  I  leave  behind  what  I  have  been  — 

The  golden  years  that  clasp  me  to  my  land, 
Leave  husband  and  my  babe  to  scorn  and  teen, 
Leave  Hellas  too,  where  I  so  fair  am  seen, 

Where  longer  than  the  Gods  themselves  remain 
I  shall  upon  my  Grecian  throne  be  queen, 

For  Zeus  hath  promised  me  his  future  reign. 


•I  AGAMXMNON'S  DAUGHTER. 

LXXXI. 

"  Bat  ah !  DO  word  of  Zeus  my  step  can  stay, 
When  close  behind  me  steals  my  destiny; 

Yes,  Lore,  I  feel  I  most  with  thee  away, 
To-morrow  on  thy  bosom  I  shall  flee 
Through  storms  of  all  the  Gods  across  the  sea, 

Though  I  presage  some  mighty  overthrow 
To  lurk  in  this  rash  deed  I  do  for  thee; 

Fate  rules  my  world,  not  Zeus  —  with  thee  I  go." 

Lxxxn. 

Then  Paris  left,  for  falling  like  a  ray 
On  night  came  Iphigenia,  maiden  free ; 

She  met  pale  Helen  gliding  oat  the  way, 
And  marked  upon  her  brow  the  mystery : 
"  What  aileth  thee — art  ill?    Tell  it  to  me; 

Thy  looks  that  were  erewhile  the  sweetest  grace 
To  music  wed,  bare  lost  their  melody ; 

Methinks  I  see  a  battle  in  thy  face." 

Lxxxni. 

Helen  gave  answer  in  a  flooded  strain : 

'•  Sweet  maid,  me  to  myself  thou  dost  recall ; 
I  had  a  sigh  that  tore  my  heart  in  twain, 

And  I  was  cast  away  from  home  and  all. 

Bat  now  I  shall  myself  anew  install, 
And  my  whole  life  I  shall  through  thee  redeem  ; 

Music  returns  within,  I  hear  its  fall, 
Zeus  ruleth  now,  and  Fate  is  not  supreme. 


IPHIGENIA  AT  MYCESJE.  37 

LXXXIV 

**  To-morrow  with  the  lark  I  shall  be  seen 
Hurrying  home  beneath  the  Spartan  shield, 

There  still  to  be  what  I  hare  ever  been, 
Till  it  be  time  to  rove  the  Elysian  field 
With  sceptred  Mercians,  who  will  wield 

A  spirit  sway  with  me  for  all  my  days; 
And  I  shall  never  die,  shall  never  yield 

To  age,  but  stay  the  soul  of  Poet's  lays." 

LXXXV. 

In  secret  Helen  left  with  rising  day, 
She  kept  her  promise  Paris  not  to  see ; 

But  ere  she  went  a  mile  upon  her  way, 
A  soft  repentance  she  could  feel  to  be 
Mellowing  her  heart  into  Love's  piety  ; 

And  longing  came,  which  deepened  to  a  sigh : 
«« Ah  me,  why  did  I  treat  him  churlishly, 

And  did  not  even  tell  him  once  good-bye." 

LXXXVI. 

The  road  ran  down  along  the  loving  sea, 
Whose  bfllows,  one  by  one,  upon  the  shore 

Would  fell  and  plead  at  Helen's  feet  to  be 
One  moment,  then  would  break  f orevcnnore 
Into  the  sand;  far  out  was  heard  the  roar 

As  ancient  Ocean  felt  the  power  near, 

And  splash  of  sea  nymphs  and  of  Tritons  hoar, 

Harrying  to  the  beach,  now  grown  so  dear. 

317117 


38  AQAMEMN01TS  DAUGHTER. 

LXXXVII. 

Then  from  the  foam  did  Aphrodite  rise, 

And  step  with  grace  upon  her  pearly  car 
Made  of  sea-shell  streaked  with  ruby  skies, 

And  tuned  to  music's  lull  without  a  jar; 

Nereids  gathered  round  her  near  and  far, 
Who  strook  the  brine  from  fervid  coal-black  hair, 

Whereon  white  hands  would  tremble  like  a  star, 
Twirling  the  tresses  round  their  bosoms  fair. 

LXXXVHI. 

And  sea-boys,  even  one  short  glimpse  to  get 
Of  perfect  being  hovered  far  in  droves ; 

Thfe  mighty  whale,  the  little  finny  set, 

And  the  strange  dweller  of  lone  island  coves, 
The  odd  fantastic  shape  that  shyly  roves 

In  deep  sea-vales  —  all  felt  the  strong  constraint ; 
The  heart  of  Ocean,  full  of  many  loves, 

Swelled  to  a  mountain  high,  then  fell  down  faint 

LXXXIX. 

As  Aphrodite  stepped  from  out  the  wave, 
And  entered  in  her  fane  upon  the  land ; 

The  sea  grew  calm  at  her  old  task  to  lave 
The  shoaly  ledges  with  her  pale  blue  hand, 
Calm  at  her  ceaseless  washing  of  the  sand 

That  it  be  clean  for  the  last  day ;  then  fled 

The  sea-boys  with  the  nymphs  far  from  the 
strand, 

Oceanus  droops  down  as  he  were  dead. 


IPHIGENIA  AT  MYCENAE.  39 

xc. 

The  Goddess  went  within  her  temple  fair, 

Whose  slender  amorous  columns  strove  in  vain 

To  kiss  the  sea  which  bore  her  gently  there, 
In  purple  billows  imaging  the  fane, 
With  every  form  of  Love's  strong  joy  and  pain 

That  lay  upon  the  temple's  front  up  high, 
Carven  so  that  they  seemed  to  live  again, 

Or  in  their  agony  again  to  die. 

XCI. 

Those  sculptured  forms  of  old  fond  histories 
Must  then  have  heard  within  the  house  a  call 

From  that  fair  Queen,  as  she  did  lightly  rise, 
And  take  her  place  upon  the  pedestal, 
Where,  as  she  stood,  her  garments  she  let  fall, 

Which,  sea-stained,  hid  away  her  shape  divine, 
Whose  glow  the  cold  hard  marble  can  enthrall, 

And  make  men  drunk  with  beauty  as  with  wine. 

XCII. 
And  there  in  lofty  state  the  Goddess  stood, 

With  her  deep  bosom  bared  unto  the  sight, 
Whence  rose  the  first  sweet  throb  of  motherhood, 
The  thrill  to  sink  away  in  Love's  last  rite 
And  in  a  dream  of  it  to  vanish  quite; 
The  robe  dropped  down  the  loins,  when  was  re  • 

vealed 

To  mortal  men  the  Goddess  in  her  might, 
Who    deepest   wounds   hath    made,  and   deepest 
healed. 


40  AGAMEMNON'S  DAUGHTER. 

XCIII. 
To  Aphrodite's  temple  Helen  came, 

In  her  long  journey  of  the  lonely  day, 
Within  her  bosom  burned  the  hidden  flame, 

She  longed  the  Goddess  one  short  prayer  to  say, 

Perchance  a  little  sacrifice  to  pay, 
Some  solace  to  receive  from  her  sad  thought 

Which  dwelt  upon  a  stranger's  face  alway, 
Or  left  her  for  a  moment  more  distraught. 

XCIV. 

She  looked,  and  words  broke  deeply  from  her 
breast : 

"  Goddess,  I  never  knew  thee  until  now; 
Of  all  divinities  thou  art  the  best, 

Though  oft  before  I  paid  to  thee  my  vow, 

My  life  with  thine  thou  never  didst  endow. 
Of  land  and  sea  thou  art  the  conqueress, 

Henceforth  in  all  I  shall  be  thine,  be  thou, 
Be  it  to  bring  me  joy  or  bring  distress." 

xcv. 

Therewith  from  ruffled  skies  the  thunder  fell, 
Down  through  the  temple  roof  red  lightning 
broke, 

And  made  from  clouds  a  falling  fiery  well, 

Then  mid  the  flames  the  Goddess  sternly  spoke 
In  words  which  Helen  smote  like  hammer  stroke : 

"  My  Paris  whom  I  sent,  why  dost  thou  flee? 
This  burning  wrath  of  mine  wilt  thou  provoke? 

Yield  me  and  follow  forth  thy  destiny. 


IPHIGENIA  AT  MYCENJE.  41 

XCVI. 

"  With  him  to  Troy  thou  must  erelong  depart, 

This  Hellas  must  thou  leave  and  family ; 
Here  Pallas  wise  and  Juno  chaste  thy  heart 

Will  share  ;  my  sway  must  undivided  be  ; 

A  life  of  roses  wilt  thou  lead  with  me ; 
Why  turn  thine  eye  to  look  upon  that  ring? 

Halved  shall  I  not  endure  the  sovereignty ; 
Beware  my  curse,  beware  the  Paphian  sting. 

XCVII. 

"  A  God  can  give  or  take  away  his  meed, 

Love  can  I  give,  but  also  I  give  hate; 
Detested  shall  I  make  thy  life  indeed, 

As  thou  art  now  beloved  by  small  and  great ; 

Nor  this  hard  blow  will  yet  my  anger  sate : 
What  makes  thee  Helen  I  shall  take  away, 

What   holds   the  world  in  thrall  to  thee  like 

Fate  — 
Thy  beauty  shall  I  shrivel  in  a  day. 

XCVIII. 

"  I  bid  thee  break  at  once  that  hated  ring, 
Else  I  shall  strike  thy  youthful  body  sere, 

Leave  thee  a  withered,  wrinkled  virtuous  thing, 
Whose  lusty  spring  is  torn  from  all  the  year, 
Whose  juices  scarce  will  furnish  one  moist  tear 

Which  thou  wilt  try  in  loneliness  to  shed  — 
'  Tis  broke  !  Seek  Spartan  home  without  a  fear, 

I  shall  be  there  and  everywhere  ahead." 


42  AGAMEMNON'S  DAUGHTER. 

XCIX. 

Then  Helen  fled  out  in  the  tempest  dazed, 

To  hollow  Lacedemon  in  a  dale; 
The  hill-tops  whizzed,  on  peals  of  thunder  raised, 

As  if  they  would  the  skies  above  assail, 

And  over  all  the  Gods  of  Greece  prevail ; 
The  lightning  chained  with  fire  the  peak  to  peak, 

Then  leaped  with   molten  links  into  the  vale, 
And  clanked  them  round  andround  in  vivid  streak. 

C. 

Still  Helen  fled  amid  the  storm  forlorn, 

To  her  a  saving  power  had  been  given  ; 
Zeus  shook  his  locks  of  lightning  never  shorn, 

Yet  smote  not  that  lone  woman  with  his  levin  ; 

In  some  deep  protest  raged  the  hills  and  heaven, 
Still  on  she  went  through  brakes  and  thickest  holts, 

Around  her   everywhere  the  crags  fell  riven, 
The  woman  charmed  the  God's  own  thunderbolts. 

CI. 

The  house  of  Agamemnon  woke  that  day, 
In  misty  morn  to  find  fair  Helen  fled ; 

Still  flocked  the  heroes  greetings  sweet  to  say, 
For  each  had  risen  early  from  his  bed, 
To  catch  his  dearest  dream  ere  it  had  sped ; 

In  vain,  for  she  was  gone,  their  hearts  were  shent : 
"It  is  some  whirn  in  beauty's  fickle  head:" 

So  guesses  flew  in  deep  bewilderment. 


IPHIGENIA  AT  MYCENJE.  43 

CII. 
But  in  those  bosoms  wrath  soon  rose  to  prayer : 

"  Though  thou  be  gone,  Oh   leave  thy  look 

behind ; 
It  builds  in  us  the  world  each  day  more  fair, 

Till  yestreen  we  saw  Helen,  we  were  blind ; 

Rest  thou  the  image  painted  in  our  mind 
Of  man  and  woman's  love  in  fond  caress; 

Thou  art  the  very  self  of  human  kind, 
Blent  to  a  vision  of  all  loveliness." 

cm. 

They  shouted  for  the  bard,  but  he  was  sad, 
He  would  not  sing  his  music-flooding  ode 

Which  bubbles  out  Castalm's  waters  glad, 
But  spake  a  word  of  melancholy  bode  : 
"Gone!   still  her  look  of   Fate  she  hath  be 
stowed  ; 

It  is  in  me,  I  see  it  in  you  all ; 

Whoever  bears  within  his  soul  the  goad 

Of  Helen's  look,  must  soon  obey  her  call." 

CIV. 

Now  Paris,  when  he  heard  that  she  had  gone, 

Bethought  himself  that  he  must  also  leave ; 
Next  day  he  bade  farewell  at  early  dawn, 

With  tears  at  parting  he  did  seem  to  grieve  ; 

Whereat  the  king  began  anew  to  weave 
Hisplan,  and  called  his  daughter,  but  she  had  flown 

Unto  her  flowers,  fresh  buds  to  interleave 
With  thoughts  about  the  life  to  be  her  own. 


44  AGAMEMNON'S  DAUGHTER. 

cv. 

Paris  gave  out  he  would  return  to  Troy, 

To  tell  the  happy  tale  of  what  he  saw, 
The  festival,  the  friendliness,  the  joy, 

With  sober  things  —  the  city,  land  and  law ; 

But  southward  all  his  sails  were  seen  to  draw 
By  the  Laconic  coast  into  the  sea; 

MycensB  gazed  afar,  presaged  no  flaw, 
But  turned  to  games  and  dance  and  minstrelsy. 

CVI. 

One  man  alone  of  all  the  Trojan  band, 

While  out  at  sea,  sought  Paris  to  dissuade, 

And  begged  to  steer  his  ship  to  his  own  land ; 
'T  was  Antenorides  who  loved  a  maid 
At  home,  to  whom  his  mind  was  ever  staid  ; 

"This  Spartan  tour,  "said  he,  "portends  no  good; 
The  Grecian  woman  is  in  us  a  blade 

To  pierce  the  Trojan  heart  and  let  its  blood." 

cm 

The  Trojans  laughed  at  the  prophetic  word, 
And  all  applauded  Paris  and  his  scheme ; 

The  madmen  their  true  voice  no  longer  heard, 
They  too  found  Helen's  look  deep  in  their  drenm, 
And  all  was  not  which  there  to  be  did  seem ; 

So  shouted  they:  "  Now  is  our  happy  mood, 
We  must  again  behold  high  beauty's  gleam, 

And  pluck  the  reddest  rose  of  womanhood." 


IPHIGENIA  AT  MYCENAE.  45 

CV1II. 
So  sailed  they  on,  nor  had  they  any  care, 

They  stirred  long  ripples  in  the  silent  seas, 
And  when  ashore  they  saw  the  starry  Bear 

By  night  with  blazing  eyes  look  through  the 
trees, 

And  heard  wild  voices  coming  down  the  breeze ; 
Still  sailed  they  on,  their  deed  could  not  be  let, 

But  wise,  forethoughtful  Antenorides 
Was  dragged  along  with  them  in  fateful  net. 

CIX. 
A  horseman  dashed  into  the  Lions'  Gate 

One  day,  with   foam-flakes  snowing  from  his 

steed, 
And  the  pale  rider  scarcely  could  await 

The  struggling  word  to  break  the  woeful  deed ; 

"  The  Gods  the  loss  of  Hellas  have  decreed  ! 
A  Spartan  home  hath  our  fair  Helen  quit; 

Along  my  pathway  mother  Earth  did  bleed, 
As  if  she  in  her  very  heart  were  hit. 

CX. 

"  To  Lacedemon  came  a  Trojan  man, 

And  Menelaus  gave  a  holiday, 
The  dearest  maidens  danced,  the  young  men  ran, 

And  all  the  people  turned  their  mind  to  play ; 

Meanwhile  the  stranger  planned  his  wicked  way 
To  carry  Helen  off  beneath  the  night ; 

To  Grecian  gifts  behold  the  Trojan  pay, 
And  it  shall  be  re-paid  with  all  our  might. 


46  AGAMEMNON'S  DAUGHTER. 

CXI. 

"  Still  yonder  ye  may  see  the  loving  pair 
In  lounging  sail  to  dally  on  the  wave, 

Which  Zephyrus  caresses  with  his  air, 
While  soft  Oceanus  the  keel  doth  lave, 
And  flocks  of  doves  fly  in  the  sun  to  save 

From  view  of  men  the  hour  of  lovers'  flight; 
Now  will  my  country  be  an  unsung  grave, 

And  all  its  golden  days  will  sink  in  night." 

CXII. 

Iphigenia  too  in  sorrow  spoke : 

"  So  thou  art  gone  at  last,  it  was  my  fear; 
By  some  fell  power  my  ring,  I  know,  is  broke, 

I  gave  it  thee,  stained  with  thy  dropping  tear, 

When  thy  full  heart  had  drawn  to  me  so  near ; 
Ah  never  have  I  felt  my  life  so  crossed, 

No  more  than  thou  can  I  stay  longer  here, 
With  thee  now  lost  am  I,  the  world  is  tost. 

CXIII. 

"  Nay,  so  I  must  not  speak —  it  is  not  true  ! 

I  shall  not  yield  a  thought  unto  despair; 
Up,  shrinking  soul !     I  still  have  work  to  do  ; 

Lay  hold  of  Time,  O  woman,  bravely  dare, 

Think  not  too  much,  for  thought  doth  bring  the 

care; 
Though  thine  be  death,  each  blood-drop  is  a  seed, 

By  action  thou  old  Fate  shalt  overbear, 
The  test  of  womanhood  is  now  the  deed." 


IPHIGENIA  AT  MYCENAE.  47 

CXIV. 

But  Agamemnon's  words  were  open  joy: 

"  Let  the  fair  woman  go,  I  fain  would  pray  ; 

I  shall  restore  her  soon,  and  lofty  Troy 
In  mighty  war  I  shall  bring  under  sway, 
Whereto  I  long  have  sought  some  secret  way  ; 

I  shall  that  Asian  bound  to  my  full  power 
Now  push  far  out  into  the  rising  day; 

To  Priam's  son  I  yet  shall  give  a  dower." 

cxv. 

But  while  they  talked,  arose  a  distant  dust 

Upon  the  road  around  a  little  hill ; 
That  dusty  cloud  was  whirled  within  a  gust 

Of  sudden  wind  into  the  town  so  shrill, 

That  all  the  people  leaped  up  in  a  thrill ; 
Then  from  the  cloud  was  born  a  mounted  group, 

And  of  the  group  one  man  each  eye  did  fill, 
Spurring  ahead  of  all  the  sweaty  troop. 

CXVI. 

Soon  any  child  within  the  town  could  tell 
That  Menelaus  was  the  foremost  man; 

Quickly  he  rode  into  the  citadel, 
While  all  the  crowd  his  broken  look  did   scan, 
And  wonder  what  might  be  his  anxious  plan ; 

Then  came  Presentiment's  dark  underflow, 
While  Rumor  wildly  raged  about,  and  ran 

Proclaiming  tumult,  war  and  overthrow. 


DAUGHTER. 


CXVII. 

AD  knew  without  a  word  why  he  was  there  ; 

To  him  was  pointed  soon  fur  out  at  sea 
A  speck  that  danced  between  the  ware  and  air, 

A  sparkling  sail  that  lingered  laughingly, 

And  gare  one  parting  glance  in  tiny  glee, 
Than  ••MM  \mm  ft»ifc»j»  •nlhia&aiMi; 

Whereat  his  eyes,  strained  to  their  last  degree, 
Broke  sflent  tears  that  told  his  deep  distress. 

CXV111. 

To  that  sane  spot  had  come  the  Grecian  chiefs, 

mil 


Which  left  behind  in  them  a  world  of  griefs; 
It  seemed  as  their  own  sool  began  to  fail 
And  ticker  off  npon  the  ship's  aea  trail ; 

Bnt  when  at  last  froni  yiew  the  Teasel  sped, 

They  stood  not  Taliant  Greeks  in  coats  of  mafl, 
But  bronxed corpses  seemed,  all  standing  dead. 

CXLX. 

As  rusting  leaves  break  in  October  dreams, 
When  under  trees  we  lie  but  half  asleep, 

And  what  we  are  awake  blends  into  gleam? 
Of  file  when  it  has  broken  Time's  strong  keep, 
And  of  the  world  beyond  we  get  a  peep  ; 

So  all  the  Greeks  saw  throo^i  their  ghostly  stare 
The  future  deed  rise  pictured  from  the  deep, 


IPHIGElflA  AT  MTCEy^E.  45 


cxx. 

War!  war!  they  shout  in  wrath — a  woeful  word 
Which  now  through  HeDas  rings  from  bound  to 


War !  war !  the  rattling  shield  and  spear  are  beard; 
There  rises  every  kind  of  martial  sound, 
War!  war!  the  men  in  arms  spring  from  the 
ground; 

What  is  then  lost  which  all  the  people  seek? 
War!  war!  they  cannot  fire  till  it  be  found, 

Helen  most  be  restored  if  Greek  be  Greek. 


Canto  Second. 

a  at 

Sacrifice  and  Rescue 


(51) 


ARGUMENT. 

TJie  Greeks  are  gathered  at  Aulis  for  the  Trojan  ex 
pedition,  but  are  kept  from  sailing  by  the  Winds.  These 
form  a  chorus  and  sing  at  intervals  through  the  Canto, 
ivhich  has  two  main  portions,  whereof  the  central  fig 
ures  are  the  father  and  the  daughter,  respectively. 

I.  The  first  wind-song  introduces  the  reader  to  the 
scene  at  Aulis,  where  there  is  much  contention  among 
the  Greeks.  The  characters  of  the  old  Greek  chieftains 
are  given,  to  whom  a  new  one  is  added,  Palamedes. 
The  leader  is  chosen,  the  lot  falls  upon  Agamemnon,  to 
the  great  disappointment  of  Achilles.  In  his  grief  he 
communes  with  his  Goddess- Mother,  Thetis,  who  bids 
him  stay  with  the  Greeks  and  endure.  Agamemnon 
in  his  new-born  insolence  seeks  the  chase,  and  slays  a 
fawn,  sacred  to  the  Virgin- Goddess,  Diana  (Artemis) ; 
he  wantonly  violates  virginity,  which  is  the  law  of  the 
Goddess  and  thereby  incurs  her  wrath.  The  Winds  noiv 
sing  their  song  of  vengeance,  and  detain  the  fleet; 
Calchas,  the  Soothsayer,  interprets  them,  and  declares 
that  Agamemnon  must  sacrifice  his  daughter  on  the 
altar  of  the  Goddess.  The  Leader  refuses  at  first,  and 
tries  to  sail  out  of  the  bay,  but  the  Winds  again  rise  and 
(52) 


sing  a  more  furious  song.     Agamemnon  now  yields  and 
is  ready  to  sacrifice  his  child.     (/ — LX"K.) 

II.  Meanwhile  Iphigenia  has  started  from  Mycence 
to  visit  her  father  at  Aulis.  Her  journey  is  described 
as  shepasses  through  many  famous  places,  all  of  which 
have  some  character  in  history  or  legend.  She  arrives 
at  Aulis  in  the  midst  of  the  furious  song  of  the  Winds, 
and  finds  her  father  in  agony,  and  the  whole  armament 
in  an  uproar.  Calchas,  the  Priest,  sees  her  and  tells 
her  she  must  sacrifice  herself  for  Greece  and  for  the 
restoration  of  Helen.  After  a  short  struggle*the  maiden 
assents;  Achilles  sees  her  and  changes  from  wrath  to 
placability  —  an  anticipation  of  his  career  at  Troy. 
She  is  led  to  the  temple  of  the  Goddess,  who  saves  her, 
but  tells  her  that  she  must  go  far  off  to  the  barbarous 
world  and  serve  as  a  priestess.  All  the  Greeks  recog 
nize  the  greatness  and  beauty  of  the  sacrifice,  feeling 
that  it  hints  something  beyond  their  life.  TJiey  set  sail 
for  Troy  to  rescue  Helen,  the  erring  woman,  for  whom  the 
pure  woman  has  given  herself.  Both  Calchas,  the  priest 
and  Palamedes,  the  moralist,  recognize  in  the  event 
something  beyond  their  previous  ken.  The  Winds  sing 
their  farewell  song  of  harmony,  and  help  the  ships  for 
ward  to  Troy.  (LXX.  to  the  end.) 


(53) 


I. 

List  to  the  Winds  and  catch  their  moody  lay  ! 

Unrestful  up   and  down  the  strait  they  blow, 
They  meet  at  Aulis,  tumble  up  the  bay, 

They  twist  the  curls  of  Tritons  to  and  fro, 

And  all  the  fleet  without  an  oar  they  row, 
No  sail  can  be  unfurled,  no  rope  be  cast, 

Above  the  sea-war  voices  singing  low 
Are  heard  out  of  the  bosom  of  the  blast : 

n. 

"  We  blow  to  the  East  and  West,  to  the  South 
and  North, 

Over  the  water  and  land  unseen  we  break, 
Around,  about, above,  below,  and  back  and  forth, 

Forever  change  we  are  and  change  we  make, 

Eternally  the  heavy  ships  we  shake, 
The  drowsy  men  we  rouse  with  our  commotion, 

We  move  the  deeps  for  the  movement's  sake, 
And  stir  to  life  anew  the  ancient  Ocean." 

(55) 


56      ^  AGAMEMNON'S  DAUGHTER. 

III. 

Hear  Boreas  whistle  in  his  chilly  blast ! 

Upon  the  sail  he  leaves  his  icy  coat ; 
The  Southwind  breathes  warm  kisses  on  the  must, 

And  sings  its  passion  in  a  tender  rote, 

The  ice  melts  in  the  ripple  to  the  note, 
And  Zephyrus  doth  come  and  lay  his  balm  ; 

The  waves  drop  in  a  trance  around  the  boat, 
The  sails  are  dead,  and  Aulis  in  a  calm. 

IV. 

So  sweep  the  winged  Winds  from  rage  to  rest, 
And  then  from  rest  they  rush  to  rage  again, 

The  wave  mounts  upward  to  their  wild  behest, 
Or  sleeps  in  peace  beneath  their  soothing  strain , 
With  dreams  of  skies  held  fast  in  crystal  plain, 

But  soon  the  blasts  are  loosed,  and  bring  anew 
In  wrathful  energy  their  stress  and  pain, 

For  in  this  world  must  all  receive  its  due. 

V. 

Now  on  this  windy  watery  element, 

Where  sea-lit  Aulis  lies  along  her  strand, 

The  Greeks  were  kept,  with  double  purpose  rent, 
Whether  to  bring  back  Helen  to  her  land, 
Or  to  send  home  all  of  their  warrior  band ; 

Oft  had  they  spoken,  yet  could  not  agree, 

Contention  rose,  whatever  might  be  planned, 

And  dashed  them  round  as  surges  on  the  sea. 


IPHIGENIA  AT  AULIS.  57 

VI. 

For  every  madding  wind  burst  out  released, 

When  but  a  sail  upreared  would  give  a  sign  ; 
They  ran  from  South  and  North  and  West  and  East 

As  if  sent  on  their  way  by  power  malign ; 

But   when  the   boats   were  moored,  the   sun 

would  shine. 
Then  all  the  wise  men  wondered  what  it  was 

That  could  the  eager  ships  so  long  confine ; 
Some  said  a  God  and  some  that  Man  was  cause. 

VII. 

The  oldest  lord  was  prudent,  white-haired  Nestor, 
Words  sweeter  flowed  than  honey  from  his 
tongue : 

The  holy  priest  was  Calchas,  son  of  Thestor, 
Who  on  the  voice  of  God  or  Goddess  hung, 
And  knew  what  every  bird  in  heaven  sung; 

Ulysses  always  deepest  wisdom  taught, 
Though  it  might  not  prevail  at  first  among 

His  people,  till  they  took  the  second  thought. 

VIII. 
Ajax  had  come,  the  bulky  man  of  brawn, 

Who  bore  a  mighty  fortress  in  his  frame ; 
Small  Menelaus  too,  whose  wrong  had  drawn 

All  Greece  to  seek  revenge  for  Helen's  shame  ; 

Young  Diomed,  a  doughty  knight  who  came 
From  Argive  land,  whose  fiery  soul  sought  fight; 

Thersites,  who  had  won  a  bitter  name 
Abusing  leaders  whether  wrong  or  right. 


58  AGAMEMNON'S  DAUGHTER. 

IX. 

But  Agamemnon  was  the  greatest  king, 

Of  all  the  chiefs  he  had  most  towns  and  land, 

And  most  ambition  to  the  war  could  bring  ; 
Achilles  had  inborn  the  Hero's  strand, 
Yet  not  with  it  the  gift  of  self-command 

Which  trains  to  duty  first  the  rebel  soul ; 
Still  he  would  be  the  leader  of  the  band, 

And  all  the  rest,  but  not  himself,  control. 

X. 

Good  Palamedes,  too,  was  present  there, 

The  man  who  always  sought  to  look  at  right ; 

For  beauty  he  had  not  a  single  care, 

Its  tender  thrill  ruled  not  his  sense  of  sight, 
Whereby  his  Grecian  soul  had  left  him  quite. 

They  all  were  gathered  now  the  chief  to  choose, 
The  Argive  herald  shrill,  Talthybius  hight, 

Bade  silence  so  that  each  could  tell  his  views. 

XI. 

King  Agamemnon  was  the  first  to  rise, 
A  politician's  wiles  he  knew  to  life, 

Tears  started  as  he  looked  up  in  the  skies : 
"  I  think  I  shall  go  home  to  my  own  wife, 
And  Helen  leave  with  all  this  Trojan  strife ; 

Our  stay  at  Troy  will  last  for  many  suns, 
Far,  far  it  lies,  with  all  disaster  rife, 

Let  us  return  to  home  and  little  ones." 


IPHIGENIA  AT  AULIS.  59 

XII. 
Broke  Palamedes  in,  the  rightful  man: 

'*  So  many  faithful  wives  why  should  we  leave, 
For  that  one  faithless  Argive  wife  who  ran 

Away  from  husband,  leaving  him  to  grieve, 

And  tell  the  time  in  tears  without  reprieve  ! 
I  say  she  hath  not  won  a  goodly  fame ; 

And  shall  we  every  household  now  bereave 
For  her  who  boldly  threw  away  her  name? 

XIII. 

"  She  went  with  Paris  of  her  own  free-will, 
Though  she  may  blame  the  Goddess  for  the 
deed; 

The  stain  upon  her  life  remaineth  still, 
Although  she  seek  to  hide  it  in  a  creed, 
And  make  divine  whatever  may  mislead; 

The  woman  who  is  led  by  Aphrodite's  word, 
Or  shall  for  guilt  the  Paphian  power  plead, 

Must  first  herself  by  harlotry  be  stirred. 

XIV. 

"  I  shall  not  quit  my  home  for  such  a  jade, 
And  leave  to  sigh  and  sorrow  all  mine  own  ; 

Perish  the  oaths  to  Tyndarus  we  made  I 

By  breaking  them  is  now  the  strong  man  shown , 
I  shall  do  so,  although  I  stand  alone. 

O  Helen,  for  thine  ills  what  deadly  cure  I 
Thou  art  not  worth  this  solitary  moan, 

For  thee  distained  we  shall  not  give  the  pure." 


00  AGAMEMNON'S  DAUGHTER. 

XV. 

Then  forward  sprang  to  speak  young  Diomed, 

Within  his  eyes  the  flint  kept  striking  fire, 
And  sparkles  threw  with  every  word  he  said, 

Whereby  that  word  did  drop  red-hot  with  ire, 

Yet  had  a  music  in  it  as  a  lyre 
When  burn  harmonic  ardors  in  the  strings, 

Attuned  to  song  aflame  from  warlike  choir, 
When  it  the  blood-beat  of  the  battle  sings. 

XVI. 

"  I  say,  let  us  at  once  sweep  forth  to  Troy, 

For  Helen  give  our  lives  in  valor's  glee; 
Without  her  glance  the  world  hath  not  one  joy, 

The  all-in-all  of  all  our  hearts  is  she  ; 

What's  wife  and  child,  what's  all  that  is  to  be, 
If  fairest  Helen  must  a  captive  sigh  ? 

What  then  am  I  myself  in  verity, 
If  I  the  Greek  cannot  for  Helen  die?  " 

XVII. 

Whereat  the  Greeks  sent  up  a  mighty  shout, 
That  rose  an  unseen  mountain  to  the  skies, 

For  each  one  heard  the  very  word  spoke  out, 
Which  in  his  heart  had  struggled  hard  to  rise 
From  that  dim  lake  where  speech  unbodied  lies ; 

Then  stood  Ulysses  forth  who  knew  the  dutiful, 
Well  he  deserved  to  be  entitled  wise, 

Though  wisdom  coined  he  not  into  the  beautiful. 


IPHIGENIA  AT  AULIS,  61 

XVIII. 

"  A  wife  and  babe  I  too  at  home  have  left, 

Telemachus  and  true  Penelope, 
But  of  them  both  I  am  this  day  bereft, 

Unless  through  Troy  I  bring  them  back  to  me, 

And  raze  that  hold  of  Greek  captivity. 
If  I  shall  win  them,  Helen  is  the  cost, 

In  her  the  one,  all  wives  we  must  set  free, 
And  in  her  loss,  behold,  we  all  are  lost." 

XIX. 

No  shout  the  Greeks  gave  wise  Ulysses'  speech, 
For  by  them  he  was  hardly  understood ; 

His  thoughts  flew  high  in  air  beyond  their  reach, 
And  yet  they  somehow  felt  his  words  were  good, 
Except  Thersites,  of  the  scoffers'  brood  ; 

He  turned  grave  wisdom  into  ridicule, 
He  railed  at  Helen  and  all  womanhood, 

And  made  the  world  just  like  himself  —  a  fool. 

XX. 

"  The  game  in  this  whole  war  is  love,"  he  said, 
"  The  love  of  Trojan  booty  is  the  main; 

Yet  if  the  love  of  Helen  tickles  Diomed, 

Why  then  should  I  and  other  Greeks  be  slain 
For  that  one  woman,  vainest  of  the  vain? 

But  we  are  told  in  one  to  see  the  all, 

Such  misty  music  is  our  wise  man's  strain  ; 

So  be  it  —  in  Helen  see  each  woman's  fall." 


62  AGAMEMNOWS  DAUGHTEli. 

XXI. 

Then  Nestor  rose  and  caught  from  him  the  word, 
And  tore  from  it  the  lie  in  knavery  wrapped  ; 

The  old  man's  voice  the  people  gladly  heard, 
He  after  wise  Ulysses  spoke,  and  capped 
Dim  wisdom  with  some  shining  legend  apt, 

Or  story  taken  from  his  far-off  youth, 

Telling  a  wondrous  tale  that  deeply  lapped 

In  folds  of  rich  romance  the  wise  man's  truth. 

XXII. 
High  sounded  the  applause  of  Grecians,  for 

He  called  them  back  from  scorn  to  their  own 

heart, 
In  sweetest  tones  of  silvery  orator, 

And  many  turns  delicious  of  his  art, 

Yet  flashing  wisdom  out  of  every  part. 
The  aged  man  sat  down,  a  youth  arose 

Whose  single  glance  made  all  the  people  start 
The  battle  cry,  as  if  to  charge  their  foes. 

XXIII. 

It  was  Achilles  who  in  splendor  came, 

The  noblest  form  of  all  the  Grecian  host, 
Each  muscle  was  athirst  for  glorious  fame 

In  tear-worn  war,  whatever  be  the  cost; 

But  the  great  world  in  his  own  self  was  lost ; 
He  knew  who  was  the  Hero,  his  name  could  call, 

A  name  on  fleeting  Time  to  be  engrossed, 
All  men  were  there  for  him,  not  he  for  all. 


IPHIGENIA  AT  AULIS.  63 

XXIV. 

Yet  he  had  nobler  strands  within  his  breast, 
Which  Cheiron,  wisest  teacher,  raised  to  day ; 

Of  music's  concord  was  his  soul  possessed, 
He  well  could  touch  the  lyric  chords  in  play, 
And  sing  heroic  deeds  in  lofty  lay, 

Till  fired  by  his  own  strains  he  soared  above 
And  found  a  tuneful  sphere,  where  every  way 

Led  unto  harmony  and  human  love. 

XXV. 

But  Cheiron's  lesson  was  now  well  forgot, 

The  Hero  sought  the  army's  chieftaincy, 
He  was  for  fairest  Helen,  yet  was  not, 

But  for  his  own  fair  deed  that  was  to  be  ; 

He  rose  to  speak,  the  entire  company, 
Rapt  with  his  beauty,  whispered  each  to  other: 

"  He  is  the  man  for  all  supremacy, 
Godlike  his  shape,  a  Goddess  is  his  mother. 

XXVI. 

"  See  but  the  motion  of  his  hand  —  what  joy  ! 

It  pours  within  us  more  than  Bacchic  stream ; 
For  him  now  could  we  take  another  Troy, 

More  beautiful  than  Helen  is  that  gleam, 

With  our  last  breath  we  would  his  life  redeem, 
If  he  a  captive  were  as  she  is  now, 

Of  gloried  Hercules  he  comes  the  dream, 
The  ray  divine  is  flashing  from  his  brow." 


64  AGAMEMNON1  S  DAUGHTER. 

XXVII. 

Quick  words  of  short  contempt  Achilles  shot : 
"  Let  us  no  more  in  useless  speech  debate 

Whether  the  woman  shall  be  restored  or  not, 
But  let  us  choose  a  chief  at  any  rate, 
Then  can  I  tell  what  is  to  be  her  fate 

When  I  shall  see  our  leader  and  his  might, 
If  he  be  merely  first  in  wealth  and  state, 

Or  he  who  in  the  front  rank  best  can  fight." 

XXVIII. 

Ulysses  seized  the  helm  with  lots,  and  prayed  : 
**  O  Zeus,  put  the  right  man  in  the  right  place ! 

Let  body's  might  be  not  our  ruler  made, 
Lest  brawny  arm  take  all  for  its  own  grace, 
And  smite  both  rule  and  reason  down  apace!  " 

Jhjo_£rreeks  with  wise  Ulysses  prayed  the  prayer, 
f       When  Agamemnon's  lot  leaped  out  the  case 

Of  brilliant  bronze  into  the  eager  air. 


XXIX. 

Achilles  turned  in  silent  wrath  aside, 

Back  to  his  sylvan  home  he  thought  to  go, 

In  Aulis  he  would  not  one  day  abide, 

But  leave  ungrateful  Grecians  to  their  woe, 
Who  were  not  able  their  best  man  to  know  ; 

He  went  alone  along  the  ridged  sand, 
His  tears  into  the  sea  began  to  flow, 

And   swell   the  waves  that  strook   in  peace  the 
strand. 


IPHI&ENIA  AT  AULIS.  65 

XXX. 

"  Ah  why  was  I  not  born  of  slaves  a  slave, 

Why  was  heroic  heart  put  in  my  breast, 
To  be  the  scorn  of  every  subtle  knave, 

And  from  the  struggle  never  to  have  rest? 

O  mother  Thetis,  mount  thy  billows'  crest, 
And  tell  why  thou,  divine,  hast  brought  me  forth, 

Me  Goddess-born,  to  be  by  time  distressed, 
By  men  to  be  cast  out  as  nothing  worth !  " 

XXXI. 

Therewith  he  flung  a  tear  into  the  brine, 

Which  heaved  to  meet  him  like  a  mother's  heart; 

A  thousand  hands  above  the  waves  did  shine, 
And  reach  out  to  him  there  as  to  impart 
Some  touch  of  balm  to  soothe  his  fiery  smart ; 

And  all  the  sea  became  a  sea  of  light, 

While  from  the  ripples'  break  soft  tones  did 
start 

And  turn  to  speech  just  at  the  margent  white. 

XXXII. 

"  My  son,  I  hear  thee  weeping  at  my  shore, 
Would  it  were  the  last  tear  that  thou  wilt  shed  ! 

Thy  honor  yet  will  be  neglected  more, 

And  contumely's  dart  will  pierce  thy  head, 
Until  thou  liest  cold  among  the  dead. 

Thy  lot  it  is  by  men  of  little  worth, 

To  be  misprized,  till  thy  full  time  be  sped; 

This  is  the  badge  of  thy  heroic  birth. 

5 


66  AGAMEMNON'S  DAUGHTER. 

XXXIII. 

"  Gods,  pity  me,  the  mother  of  but  one, 

Who  is  so  great  that  he  must  early  die ; 
Could  I  have  borne  a  weak,  ignoble  son, 

Then  mine  had  been  a  blest  maternity. 

Yet  wherefore  am  I  mother  but  to  cry  ? 
And  wherefore  am  I  Goddess  but  to  bear 

The  sorrows  of  the  world  upon  my  sigh  ? 
Oh  stay,  my  son,  it  is  thy  mother's  prayer." 

XXXIV. 

Therewith  she  rose  above  the  mighty  mere, 
Her  son  she  kissed  as  the  great  waters  drave, 

And  with  her  own  she  washed  away  his  tear, 
Yet  with  her  breath  divine  endurance  gave 
Of  the  heroic  pang,  which  stills  the  grave. 

Up  with  her  rose  the  Ocean  many-tressed, 
Who  fitted  to  her  form  his  yielding  wave, 

And  with  her  clasped  the  Hero's  shaggy  breast. 

XXXV. 

With  one  embrace  she  sank  down  in  the  main, 

The  struggling  waters  rested  from  their  coil , 
Peace  spread  on  billows  blue  afar  her  train, 

And  busy  ripples  turned  back  to  their  toil ; 

Achilles  felt  no  more  his  bosom's  broil, 
When  he  had  heard  his  loving  mother's  speech; 

He  traced  strange  thoughts  upon  the  sandy  soil, 
And  picked  up  gorgeous  shells  along  the  beach. 


IPHIGENIA  AT  AULIS.  67 

XXXVI. 

Proud  Agamemnon  sat  within  his  tent, 
The  Chieftains  flocked  the  newest  man  to  greet, 

And  many  costly  presents  to  him  sent 

Of  golden  beakers,  tripods,  vestments  meet 
For  body,  bed,  for  stool  beneath  his  feet ; 

It  was  a  wild  exultant  gathering 

That  surged  around  to  knee  the  royal  seat, 

And  loud  proclaimed  a  God  to  be  the  king. 

XXXVII. 

The  Leader  deigns  to  deem  himself  a  God, 
Himself  to  be  above  all  guilt  he  deems, 

And  of  man's  punishment  to  bear  the  rod, 

Dire  Ate  feeds  his  heart  with  all  her  dreams, 
And  insolence  from  every  action  gleams, 

E'en  royal  courtesy  is  throned  on  pride; 
No  limit  to  his  will  to  have  he  seems, 

Not  Zeus,  but  he  Olympus  doth  bestride. 

XXXVIII. 

Full  early  in  the  morn  he  seeks  the  chase, 
To  vent  in  wildest  sport  his  wanton  mood, 

To  hunt  instead  of  men  the  sylvan  race, 
When  suddenly  he  comes  to  Dian's  wood, 
Which  on  a  hill  not  far  from  Aulis  stood ;  — 

A  sacred  spot,  that  was  encircled  round 
With  walls  and  hedges,  woven  to  exclude 

All  trespass  from  the  hidden  holy  ground. 


68  AGAMEMNON'S  DAUGHTEE. 

IXL. 

Within  the  close  were  many  pretty  fawns, 
That  cropped  the  leaves  with  kisses  delicate, 

Or  played  in  coyish  pleasantry  on  lawns, 
Without  the  dream  of  hairy  horned  mate, 
All  to  the  purest  Goddess  dedicate. 

It  was  a  spot  where  none  with  stained  thought 
Might  enter  in  the  pearl-embosomed  gate; 

The  very  air  breathed  innocence  untaught. 

XL. 

But  Agamemnon  knew  no  sacred  bound, 
Desire  had  now  become  his  only  law, 

He  leaped  the  wall  and  sprang  upon  the  ground, 
The  fairest  fawn  within  the  grove  he  saw, 
And  there  he  smote  her  with  goat- footed  paw, 

As  if  he  were  a  satyr  of  the  wood ; 

Deep  in  her  tender  heart  sunk  down  the  claw, 

And  o'er  her  body  white  was  written  blood. 

XLI. 

The  heart-struck  fawn  ran  off  unto  the  fane 
Spilling  her  virgin  drops  with  helpless  shriek  ; 

Along  the  grass  was  trailed  a  purple  stain, 
Which  burned  the  greenest  sod  to  a  sere  streak, 
And  called  on  Mother  Earth  revenge  to  wreak. 

To  altar  of  the  Goddess  pure  she  fled, 

And  gave  one  piteous  look  of  prayer  meek, 

Then  fell  down  at  the  feet  of  Dian,  dead. 


IPHIOENIA  AT  AULIS.  69 

XLII. 

At  once  the  sky  was  dipped  in  blackest  wrath, 
Amid  the  trees  leaped  red  the  ragged  fire, 

The  heavens  everywhere  portended  scath, 
As  if  they  sought  to  make  the  world  a  pyre, 
And  singe  it  to  a  crisp  with  lightnings  dire; 

The  thunder  chain,  with  dreadful  links  of  sound, 
Clanked  on  the  flaming  air  with  wrong  afire, 

And  dragged  fleet  molten  fetters  on  the  ground. 

XLIII. 

The  timid  fawns  had  scampered  through  the  grove, 
With  terror  of  the  time  their  bodies  shook, 

Through  hiding  thicket  one  by  one  they  strove, 
Or  huddled  in  a  mass  within  a  nook, 
Around  they  dared  not  for  a  moment  look ; 

It  seemed  as  if  the  Goddess  could  not  shield 
Her  innocents  along  the  forest  brook, 

But  must  to  ruthless  ravager  them  yield. 

XLIV. 

The  Leader  knew  at  once  what  he  had  done, 
He  hurried  pale  from  forest  to  the  fleet, 

The  glance  of  Goddess  there  he  thought  to  shun ; 
He  ordered  all  the  chiefs  betimes  to  meet, 
And  bring  aboard  the  armament  complete : 
"Aboard,  Aboard,  I  shall  no  more  delay, 
Seize  hold  the  oar,  hoist  to  the  wind  the  sheet, 

And  strike  the  foamy  wave  to-day,  to-day." 


70  AGAMEMNON'S  DAUGHTER. 

XLV. 

The  people  deeply  wondered,  but  obeyed; 

Like   ants  they  swarmed   along   the  shelving 

shore, 
And  not  a  moment  in  their  task  delayed ; 

They  dragged  the  ships  down  to  the  water  hoar 

With  shouts  that  capped  the  hill-tops  in  a  roar  ; 
They  cut  in  haste  the  hawser  from  the  land, 

Then  rose  to  smite  the  salt  sea  with  the  oar, 
And  thought  to  leave  at  once  old  Aulis'  strand. 

XL  VI. 

But  when  the  air  had  heard  one  lusty  stroke, 
It  madly  changed  into  a  furious  blast ; 

Each  sail  did  seem  the  wind-god  to  provoke, 
So  that  he  stripped  it  from  the  reeling  mast, 
And  its  white  tatters  in  the  sea  did  cast ; 

The  Furies  of  the  air  would  hiss  and  howl, 
The  Demons  of  the  sea  would  scurry  past, 

And  furrow  its  calm  face  with  gloaming  scowl. 

XL  VII. 
The  wrathful  Winds  again  were  heard  to  sing  : 

«'  The  man  shall  not  escape,  the  guilty  man; 
We  come,  we  come,  his  wicked  deed  we  bring, 

Our  hands  have  been  at  work  since  Time  began, 

We  keep  upright  the  world  the  Gods  did  plan, 
The  blast  on  sea  and  land  is  but  our  speed 

The  hidden  wrong  from  out  the  earth  to  ban, 
We  spirits  are  that  blow  to  man  his  deed." 


IPEIGENIA  AT  AULIS.  71 

XL  VIII. 

Thus  in  a  chorus  dolorous  they  sang, 

With  its  vast  bass  of  waters  chimed  the  deep, 
The  skies  attuned  thereto  with  thunder  rang, 

Long  rocky  hands  would  catch  the  keel,  and 
keep 

It  fast  on  shoals,  or  hurl  it  on  the  steep  ; 
Soon  every  ship  put  back  into  the  bay ; 

Then  would  the  Winds  begin  to  fall  asleep, 
Or  mid  the  masts  low  notes  of  guilt  to  play. 

XLIX. 

And  every  Grecian  soul  amazed  did  ask : 

"  Why  do  the  Gods  to  us  opposed  stand? 
For  it  is  they  who  stop  us  from  our  task 

Fair  Helen's  wrong  to  quit  with  vengeful  hand. 

Some  unseen  crime  is  lurking  in  the  land, 
Innocent  blood  its  curses  on  us  wreaks, 

The  culprit  must  be  found,  his  guilt  be  banned, 
Although  he  be  the  first  man  of  the  Greeks." 

L. 

Then  sounded  through  the  multitude  of  masts 
The  voice  of  strong  Talthybius  herald  shrill ; 

It  sent  a  shudder  like  the  shrieking  blasts, 
And  made  the  host  that  felt  its  keenness,  chill 
With  fearful  bodements  of  a  coming  ill; 

To  the  assembly  all  the  Grecians  throng 
To  hear  what  is  the  word  divine,  while  still 

The  Winds,  at  parting,  lisp  a  sigh  of  wrong. 


72  AGAMEMNON'S  DAUGHTER. 

LI. 
Then  Calchas,  holy  Priest,  the  first  arose, 

The  darkness  was  transparent  to  his  view, 
He  kenned  the  will  of   Gods  and  of  their  foes, 

How  the  great  Universe  is  ruled  he  knew, 

How  man  in  it  is  governed  saw  he  too, 
Upon  his  heart  the  law  was  deeply  writ, 

His  eye  shone  sunlike  looking  on  the  True, 
The  world  he  saw  not,  but  the  God  in  it, 

LII. 

The  brook  he  heard  not  but  the  Nymph  therein, 

The  roar  of  skies  would  speak  to  him  of  Jove  ; 
So  he  had  heard  the  Winds  beneath  their  din 

Announce   the  deed   that  wronged  the  Gods 
above, 

And  had  on  Earth  below  slain  human  love; 
He  was  the  only  man  in  all  the  fleet 

Who  knew  the  voice  in  which  the  tempest  strove, 
And  could  its  very  words  to  men  repeat. 

LIII. 
Beside  the  will  of  Gods  to  him  was  known 

The  human  soul,  which   he  could  clearly  scan 
When  it  in  darkest  depths  was  left  alone 

With  guilt,  by  Gods  forsaken  and  by  man, 

By  all  the  lightnings  pierced  of   its  own  ban  j 
.He  looked  in  it  and  saw  the  deep  disease, 

Straightway  he  sought  to  carry  out  the  plan 
Whereby  to  give  to  it  the  sweet  release. 


IPHIGENIA  AT  AULIS.  73 

LIV. 

Such  was  of  holy  priest  the  greatest  gift : 
He  sought  the  errant  spirit  to  reclaim, 

The  burden  from  the  breaking  heart  to  lift, 
To  bring  atonement  for  all  wicked  blame, 
And  new  existence  give  and  a  new  name ; 

The  guilty  life  he  could  far  down  unroll, 
And  take  the  evil  strain  from  out  its  frame, 

And  reconcile  with  Gods  the  cast-off  soul. 

LV. 

He  spake  a  speech  that  all  the  host  could  hear : 
"  I  tell  what  Zeus  and  mine  own  soul  command, 

Although  my  sharp  rebuke  shall  smite  the  ear 
Of  highest  man  in  all  the  Grecian  band: 
Ye  sail  away  unto  the  Trojan  Land 

Wrong  to  avenge,  and  yet  that  very  wrong 
At  Aulis  has  been  done  with  wanton  hand  ; 

Now  Helen's  injuries  to  Greeks  belong. 

LVI. 

"  A  fawn  devote  to  virgin  Artemis 
Is  lying  slain  within  her  holy  ground ; 

The  guilt  of  Paris,  I  proclaim,  is  his 

Who  did  the  lustful  deed,  and  made  a  wound 
On  innocence  which  would  all  Troy  astound ; 

Think  not  the  Gods  will  pass  in  us  offense 

For  which  they  shall  the  Trojan  town  confound  ; 

They  punish  in  us  too  its  insolence. 


74  AGAMEMNON'S  DAUGHTER. 

LVII. 

"  Our  deities  are  high  because  the  rods 

They  bear  for  all  who  shall  their  law  transgress ; 

Greek  wrong  is  punished  hardest  by  Greek  Gods 
For  deed  of  guilt  give  ye  to  them  redress, 
Impartial  is  their  wrath,  their  blessedness  ; 

If  they  have  judgment  sent  against  proud  Troy, 
By  that  same  judgment  now  they  send  us  stress 

Of  winds,  whereof  take  heed  lest  they  destroy. 

LVIII. 

**  A  contradiction  is  of  Gods  the  hate, 
They  will  not  long  abide  discordancy  ; 

That  man  they  leave  unhelped  to  vengeful  fate, 
Who  seeketh  not  from  guilt  himself  to  free, 
And  to  bring  back  his  life  to  harmony ; 

By  sacrifice  alone  can  he  be  rid 

Of  wrongful  deed,  whose  ruth  he  feels  when  he 

Does  to  himself  what  he  to  others  did. 

LIX. 

"  O  Leader  brave,  thou  hast  a  daughter  dear, 
A  virgin  pure  as  is  the  sky-born  snow  ; 

I  cannot  speak  the  word  without  a  tear  — 
The  Goddess  bids  thy  child  to  be  laid  low 
Upon  her  altar  with  the  axe's  blow; 

The  Winds  will  never  cease  from  out  the  skies 
To  pour  upon  the  fleet  their  blasts  of  woe, 

Till  with  the  fawn  thy  bleeding  daughter  lies. 


IPHIGENIA  AT  AULIS.  75 

LX. 
"  If  to  the  Gods  for  all  thou  wilt  her  lend, 

Thou  wilt  thyself  of  thine  own  wrong  redeem, 
For  thou  hast  taken  back  thy  deed  to  mend, 

And  plucked  it  from  the  penalty  supreme ; 

True  leadership  will  out  thine  action  beam, 
When  for  thy  land  thou  yieldest  dearest  ties ; 

And  the  new  Helen  will  restored  gleam 
Through  thine  own  daughter  and  her  sacrifice." 

LXI. 

So  spake  the  holy  Priest,  who  truly  saw 
In  all  its  deeps  what  lies  in  human  deed ; 

Bat  Agamemnon  spurned  the  sacred  law 

And  cursed  the  spotless  man  who  said  the  creed : 
"Thou  sordid   Priest!  I    know   thy   calling's 
greed, 

'Tis  gold  that  buys  thy  word,  somebody's  gold, 
Who  is  mine  enemy  ;  the  Gods  take  heed 

Through  thee  on  pelf  and  power  to   keep  their 
hold. 

LXII. 

'*  Thy  subtle  priestly  craft  shall  not  rule  me, 

Although  thou  make  weak  men  in  fear  opine 
Thy  will  to  be  the  will  of  deity ; 

My  own  sweet  will  is  just  as  good  as  thine, 

And  I  believe  it  is  quite  as  divine, 
Nay  more  divine,  for  I  have  power. —  The  oar 

Now  lift  again,  O  Greeks,  and  smite  the  brine 
For  Troy,  our  injured  Helen  to  restore." 


76  AGAMEMNOWS  DAUGHTER. 

LXIII. 

The  men  went  down  into  their  ships  once  more, 
And  stirred  unwilling  waves  with  busy  blade, 

But  soon  they  heard  approach  a  wild  uproar 
From  out  a  cloud  wherein  the  flashes  played 
So  fust  that  every  seaman  was  dismayed  ; 

And  suddenly  the  Wind£  smote  in  a  throng 
The  sails  to  ragged  shrouds  of  gloomy  shades, 

Singing  a  new  and  more  destructive  song  : 


LXIV. 

We  come,  again  we  come,  and  thrice  we  come, 
With  treble  howl,  around,  above,  below; 

We  burn  with  blast  of  fire,  with  cold  benumb, 
The  man,  the  man,  the  guilty  man  we  know, 
For  him  we  come  to-day,  for  him  we  blow, 

We  are  the  Fates,  we  are  the  Furies  too, 

We  cleanse  the  earth  with  death  as  round  we  go, 

What  guilty  man  has  done,  to  him  we  do." 

LXV. 

Forth  rushed  the  Winds,  at  first  with  sudden  kiss, 

As  if  a  parting  lover  in  his  hurry; 
But  soon  they  changed  into  a  dreadful  hiss, 

And  on   the  sea  and  shore   would    skip  and 
skurry  ; 

A  thousand  airy  serpents  seemed  to  worry 
The  mortal  man  and  strike  with  unseen  fang; 

At  last  the  Winds  rose  in  one  mighty  flurry, 
And,  rushing  on  the  ships,  again  they  sang  : 


IPHIGENIA  AT  AULIS.  77 

LXVI. 

"  Twice,  twice,  to-day  have  we  with  shrilly  lay 

To  Aulis  come  and  sung  amid  the  fleet ; 
Our  first  was  gay  and  chimed  a  changeful  play ; 

The  second  moved  to  a  far  deeper  beat, 
Ha  ha  !  but  you  were  saved  by  quick  retreat ; 

The  third  time  we  are  here  with   curse  more 

savage, 
Ha  ha  !  'tis  vengeance  whistling  in  the  sheet ! 

We  come  !  we  come !  hear  now  our  song  of 
ravage ! ' ' 

LXVII. 

Then  ship  on  ship  was  driven  in  the  clamor, 
Men  fell  into  the  wave  and  rose  no  more, 

Over  the  water  flared  a  lurid  glamour, 

As  damned  phantoms  smote  the  sea  and  shore, 
And  every  sail  from  mast  and  halyard  tore : 

The  ships  could  scarce  escape  the  crackling  flame 
Which  out  the  belly  of  the  Winds  upbore, 

By  fleeing  back  to  Aulis  whence  they  came. 

LXVIII. 

The  first  to  put  about  into  the  bay, 
Was  Agamemnon,  palsied  at  the  sign 

Which  Gods  had  shown  to  him  of  their  own  way  ; 
He  sent  at  once  for  Calchas,  man  divine, 
To  break  the  spell  of  that  great  might  malign, 

He  fell  down  by  the  Priest  with  heavy  groans, 
Yet  his  new  life  through  tears  began  to  shine, 

As  he  with  soothed  Winds  did  mingle  moans : 


78  AGAMEMNON^  S  DAUGHTER. 

LXIX. 

"  Zeus,  Father,  must  I  sacrifice  my  daughter  ! 

Of  womanhood  the  tender  blooming  rose  ! 
The  sweetest  flower   of  my  life  I  thought  her ; 

What  then  have  I  to  live  for  if  she  goes  ? 

Help,    Calchas,    stroke    thy   hand   along   my 

throes ; 
Thine  eye  bids  me  to  think  myself  a  King; 

I  am  a  King  —  the  Leader  here  bestows 
His  daughter  and  himself  an  offering." 

~  LXX. 

Meantime  Mycenae  gay  its  song  had  lost, 

The  dance  had  ceased  and  merry  festival  ; 
In  place  of  joy  its  hearts  were  sorrow-tossed, 

The  mother,  wife,  the  little  children  all 

Oft  gathered  lonely  on  the  city  wall 
To  gaze  for  messenger  or  ship  afar; 

No  voice  was  heard  but  woman's  cry  or   call, 
For  every  man  had  gone  to  tearful  war. 

LXXI. 

No  word  from  Aulis  came,  they  cannot  hear 
What  is  the  reason  of  so  long  delay; 

Iphigenia  thinks  without  a  fear 
A  visit  to  her  noble  sire  to  pay, 
Ere  he  to  distant  Troy  be  gone  away  ; 

Out  of  the  Lions'  Gate  she  drove  her  team 
Of  mules  that  shook  the  sweaty  yoke  all  day, 

Up  hill  and   down,  and  by  the   rippling  stream . 


IPHIGENIA  AT  AULIS.  79 

LXXII. 

Her  chariot  first  ran  through  the  stony  glen, 
Where  once  the  Gods  and  Titans  fought  their 
fight 

In  ages  hoar,  then  left  it  unto  men ; 

She  saw  rocks  hurled  with  superhuman  might, 
And  dark  chaotic  powers  put  to  flight 

Long  long  ago,  when  first  this  sunny  world 
Of  Grecian  Gods  dawned  gleaming  on  the  sight, 

And  gloomy  deities  to  Tartarus  whirled. 

LXXIII. 

And  then  she  went  through  silent  piney  dells, 
Where  she  would  hardly  dare  her  breath  to  hear, 

Lest  she  disturb  the  spirit  that  indwells 

The  oak,  the  bubbling  spring,  the  lonely  weir, 
Or  skims  high  woodlands  like  a  star  in  fear; 

The  Hamadryad's  lightest  lisp  she  heard, 
As  it  would  vanish  on  a  gossamer, 

And  oft  she  caught  and  kept  its  dying  word. 

LXXIV. 
The  women  of  each  village  hugged  her  path, 

With  babe  at  breast  and  children  at  the  dress, 
A  kindly  look  and  speech  for  all  she  hath, 

Their  husbands  were  at  Aulis  in  the  stress, 

And  they  could  see  ahead  long  wretchedness ; 
True  wives,  they  sent  by  her  some  word  or  token, 

To  those  they  loved,  whom  they  in  faithfulness 
Must  give  for  that  one   wife  whose    faith  was 
broken. 


80  AGAMEMNON'S  DAUGHTER. 

LXXV. 

Past  Ephyre's  high  breast  she  quickly  rides, 
Whose  city  lies  between  Poseidon's  knees, 

While  Aphrodite's  foam  laves  both  its  sides, 
And  Acrocorinthus   stops   the  stirring  breeze, 
Until  it  swoons  away  amid  the  trees 

To  soft  Idalian  kisses  round  a  shrine ; 

Through  that  lax  luscious  air  the  maiden  flees, 

And  touches  not  her  lip  to  Corinth's  wine. 

LXXVI. 

She  rests  not  till  she  comes  unto  the  bound 
Which  sends  her  high  up  to  a  mountain   land, 

Where  ancient  fable  sported  with  the  sound 
Of  sweetest  minstrelsy,  or  chanson  grand, 
Hymning  the  mighty  gests  of  Hero's  hand.      ^ 

One  path  she  shuns  where  Theseus  of  yore 
With  stolen  Helen  fled  along  the  strand, 

The  Trojan  deed  presaging  long  before. 

LXXVII. 

From  heights  she  passed  into  a  fruitful  dale, 

Which  fluttered  everywhere  with  silvery  leaves 
Of  Olives,  changing  sunlight  to  a  pale 

Moonlight  that  with  the  treetops  interweaves  ; 

Like  sobbing  heart  afar  the  orchard  heaves  ; 
Women  are  there  culling  the  fruit  alone, 

Yet  each  looks  up  at  passing  team,  and  leaves 
Her  task  awhile  to  think  of  some  one  gone. 


IPHIGENIA  AT  AULIS.  81 

LXXVIII. 

To  plain  of  Ceres  then  the  maiden  drove, 

Where  the  broad  land  springs  into  yellow  corn, 

At  hidden  tender  touch  of  Goddess'  love, 
As  if  out  of  the  earth  the  golden  rnorn 
With  a  new  sun  were  of  a  sudden  born ; 

O'er  all  was  felt  the  sacred  mystery 

Of  man,  who  also  springs  from  night  forlorn 

To  day,  till  he  again  in  night  shall  lie. 

LXXIX. 

Through  many  a  grove  of  plaintain  and  of  myrtle, 

Over  Kephissus'  gentle  element, 
To  voice  of  nightingale  and  Attic  turtle, 

Mid  strains  of  seas  and  skies  and  mountains 
blent, 

Royally  into  Athena's  town  she  went; 
From  Pallas'  hill  she  looked  far  on  the  sea, 

Unto  its  very  bound  her  glance  she  sent, 
And  saw  the  empire  there  which  was  to  be. 

LXXX. 

The  Muses  sang  around  her  their  own  rule, 

As  she  did  loiter  on  their  sacred  hill, 
Where  was  intoned  the  note  of  every  school 

Which  hath  through  Time's  deep  bosom  sent 
its  thrill 

Of  harmony  —  mind's  cunning,  hand's  skill ; 
Then  looked  she  to  the  East  and  saw  the  proud 

High  threat  the  Greek  horizon  darkly  fill, 
But  soon  the  Attic  sun  smote  through  the  cloud. 


82  AGAXEMNOX'S  DAUGHTER. 

LXXXI. 

Over  the  radiant  hills  to  Marathon 

She  darts  as  if  she  held  Apollo's  ways, 

There  on  a  plain  she  saw  that  Attic  sun 

From  skies  descend  transfigured  in  a  blaze, 
Which  all  the  earth  illumined  with  its  rays  ; 

A  little  village  glowed  within  the  sunset  crest, 
As  drew  to  end  the  greatest  day  of  days, 

And  turned  down  Grecian  hills  into  the  West. 

LXXXII. 

Another  note  was  sung  in  Marathon 

Mid  golden  cornfields  leaping  from  their  grave  ; 
She  stopped  along  the  sea  when  day  was  done, 

She  heard  the  never-ending  waters  rave, 

And  thought,  Will  Asia  ever  cross  this  wave 
To  Greece,  as  now  to  Troy  we  Grecians  go? 

Such  deeds   bring   forth   their  like,  however 

brave ; 
O  who  shall  break  this  endless  chain  of  woe ! 

Lxxxni. 

She  came  to  Rhamnus,  town  of  ancient  fane, 
The  home  of  Nemesis,  the  Goddess  hoar 

Whose  blow  requites  on  man  his  action's  bane  ! 
No  rest  she  found,  she  quit  the  temple  door, 
And  hurried  past  unto  the  lonely  shore, 

Where  of  that  Titaness  she  might  be  free, 
Whose   furious  word  is  vengeance  evermore ; 

Sweet  peace  she  found   beside  the  yielding  sea. 


IPHIGENIA  AT  AULIS.  83 

LXXXIV. 

All  day  her  chariot  wound  about  the  bank, 
Whose  sunny  path  the  whitest  pebbles  pave, 

To  smiling  stillness  the  wide  waters  sank 
Before  the  presence  of  the  maiden  brave, 
Or  rose  in  ripples  mild  her  feet  to  lave, 

When  she  would  walk  along  the  beached  sea ; 
Oft  tresses  of  the  Nymphs  would  float  the  wave, 

Then  melt  into  the  blue  transparency. 

LXXXV. 

As  Aulis  rises  slowly  into  view, 

She  hears  the  angry  bustle  of  the  blast, 

She  sees  the  waves  swell  up  with  trouble  new ; 
And  drive  within  her  sight  a  slivered  mast, 
Which  breakers  smite,  till  it  on  land  be  cast; 

Then  reeling  ships  she  spies,  which  seamen  row, 
In  secret  nooks  they  huddle  all  aghast, 

As  if  to  shun  a  second  hidden  blow. 

LXXXVI. 

Iphigenia  rode  in  peaceful  mood 

Deeper  and  deeper  to  the  storm's  fierce  heart, 
Where  lone  within  his  tent  her  father  stood, 

Whose  tears  at  sight  of  her  began  to  start, 

And  ashen  quiverings  of  pain  to  dart 
Through  chorded  limbs,  tense  in  the  bitter  strain ; 

Then  would  he  seek  suppression  of  the  smart, 
Grow  calm  apace,  till  tears  fell  down  again. 


84  AGAMEMNON'S  DAUGHTEE. 

LXXXVII. 

"  What  is  it  that  so  pains  thee,  father  dear? 

What  winds  are  those  I  heard  not  long  ago  ? 
I  see  that  thou  art  struggling  with  a  tear  ; 

Those  blasts  still  threaten  as  they  whirl  and 
blow 

Far  out  upon  the  sea,  where  now  they  go  ; 
Their  biting  edge  I  touched  upon  my  way, 

Still  I  in  thee  can  feel  their  afterthroe  ; 
What  is  thy  sorrow?     Let  me  its  pang  allay." 

LXXXVIII. 
While  yet  she  spake,  the  captains  one  by  one 

Dropped  in  to  speak  a  word  unto  the  chief; 
They  viewed  the  maid  who  soon  all  hearts  had  won , 

Yet  not  by  love  like  Helen,  but  by  grief; 

Fair  words  they  spake  of  deep  regard  but  brief, 
They  felt  the  awe,  and  in  her  look  could  see 

All  time  before  them  pass,  like  falling  leaf 
Which  drops  to  earth,  and  leaves  the  heavens  free. 

LXXXIX. 

Achilles,  too,  had  sought  the  Leader's  tent, 
To  bid  a  grim  good-bye  to  chieftains  there  ; 

He  looked  upon  the  maiden's  face,  he  went 
Not  forth,  but  on  him  settled  unaware 
A  distant  view  of  something  more  than  fair, 

Than  Honor  worthier,  higher  than  Glory, 
He  wandered  with  it  far  up  in  the  air, 

While  it  to  him  alone  told  all  its  story. 


IPHIGENIA  AT  AULIS.  85 

xc. 

He  said  unto  himself:   "  I  now  must  change, 
Old  Cheiron  never  could  have  taught  me  this, 

He  never  could  have  shown  the  vision  strange 
Now  shown  by  simple  maid,  a  little  miss, 
Whose  face  doth  look  the  very  God's  in  bliss  ; 

To  me  her  glance  is  more  than  Helen's  glance, 
Henceforth  its  guidance  I  shall  not  dismiss, 

Its  spell  may  yet  my  deepest  hours  entrance." 

XCI. 

Then  Calchas  came,  he  scarce  could  hide  his  moan, 

He  hinted  that  he  had  a  word  to  say  apart, 
And  when  he  spake  unto  the  maid  alone, 
The  parting  of  his  lips  cleft  to  his  heart : 

$«  I  must  speak  forth  the  word  with  all  its  smart : 

/    That  ill  winds  cease  to  blow,  and  fair   ones  rise 

To  bear  the  Grecian  fleet  to  Troy,  thou  art 
To  be  to  Artemis  the  sacrifice. 

^ > 

XCII. 


"  That  Helen  may  be  saved,  thou  art  to 

The  pure  must  give  itself  for  the  diatained.  _ 

It_is  the  world's  last  law,  which  to  defy 

Is  breach~fbr  which  the  man  will  be  arraigned 
Before  that  court  where  justice  is  not  feigned  ; 

Shun  wrong  of  shirking  what  is  on  thee  laid ; 
Innocence  lost  by  guilt,  is  then  regained, 

When  the  pure  soul  its  offering  is  made. 


86  AGAMEMNON'S  DAUGHTKK. 

xcni. 

"In  Troy's  own  wickedness  we  Greeks  are  strong  ; 

The  Goddess  now  demands  our  highest  ineed ; 
Then  only  may  we  right  the  Trojan  wrong, 

When  we  ourselves  the  way  to  right  may  lead ; 

We  can  avenge  another's  wrongful  deed, 
Not  till  that  deed  out  of  our  heart  is  burned; 

Never  can  we  take  Troy  till  we  are  freed 
Of  Troy's  own  guilt,  and  to  ourselves  returned. 

XCIV. 

"  From  Zeus  supreme  comes  down  one  great  be 
hest 

That  good  men  owe  themselves  unto  the  bad  ; 
Else  were  they  hardly  good,  and  never  blest    .' 
Through  the  high  suffering  that  pure  and  glad 
JVlaketh  all  hearts  by  making  them  so  sad  ; 
Above  fair  Helen  will  thy  beauty  rise, 

Thy  land  in  thee  its  rescue  will  have  had, 
And  the  whole  world  in  thee  its  sacrifice." 

xcv. 

So  spake  the  holy  Priest,  a  noble  man, 

Who   wrought   not    for   himself,  for    all    he 
wrought; 

The  Future  in  the  Now  he  well  could  scan, 
That  which  must  be  forever,  was  his  thought, 
And  that  was  what  he  to  his  people  taught ; 

Yet  truest  Greek  he  was,  most  true  of  all, 
What  Hellas  was  to  time  itself  he  sought, 

Not  to  the  East  he  looked,  not  to  Troy's  fall, 


IPH1GENIA  AT  AULIS.  87 

XCVI. 
But  in  the  West  he  saw  futurity 

Grow  out  the  deed  of  heavy  suffering, 
Saw  a  new  world  rise  out  the  farthest  sea, 

And  a  new  Hellas  in  it  upward  spring, 

And  to  mankind  afresh  its  blessing  bring; 
Far-off  dim  visions  and  blest  auguries, 

Snatches  of  song  he  heard  the  poets  sing, 
Hymning  in  ages  late  the  sacrifice. 

XCVII. 

His  was  no  cruel  speech  but  tender  grace, 

With  every  word  his  own  great  heart  was  rent, 
And  if  he  could  he  would  have  ta'en  her  place, 

For  her  endured  the  bitter  punishment ; 

Into  her  sorrow  was  his  soul  so  blent 
That  she  could  nought  but  his  sweet  presence  bless, 

As  his  strong  thought  into  her  breast  he  sent 
Armed  with  his  pity  and  tender-heartedness. 

XCVIII. 

Thus  sighed  she  answer  to  the  holy  Priest : 
"  Oh  must  I  die,  who  love  my  life,  so  young? 

And  must  I  now  be  slaughtered  like  a  beast 
At  the  blest  shrine  to  which  I  oft  have  clung, 
When  with  the  pain  of  life  I  have  been  stung? 

Have  mercy  on  me,  Goddess,  hope  is  spilt  — 
The  howling  winds  through  all  the  shores  have 
sung 

The  strain  of  vengeance  for  some  hidden  guilt. 


88  AGAMEMNON1  S  DAUGHTER . 

XCIX. 

"  But  ah  !  the  more  men  need  to  be  set  free; 

If  they  were  guiltless,  they  no  help  would  need ; 
What  is  life  good  for,  but  to  give  it  thee  ? 

To  keep  it  for  myself  is  but  a  greed, 

To  yield  it  up  ma,kes  of  it  fruitful  seed  ; 
Here  take  it,  I  give  the  last  of  earthly  joys, 

This  bloom  tear  from  my  cheek,  and  let  me 

bleed, 
Guide  me  to  the  altar's  ax  — it  is  my  choice.'^) 

C. 

Achilles  came  and  looked,  a  changed  man, 
He  hears  what  he  before  had  never  heard  ; 

He  saw  his  life  anew  and  made  its  plan, 
To  bitter  sacrifice  he  too  is  stirred 
By  that  sole  thrill  of  tender  maiden's  word; 

His  mien  superb  becomes  her  humble  thrall, 
Now  his  heroic  sword  he  will  engird, 

To  fight  not  for  his  glory,  but  for  all. 

CI. 

"  Ah  me !     I  know  I  am  short-lived  by  fate, 

But  I  prefer  to  die  as  thou  wilt  die ; 
If  I  should  stay  at  home  I  might  live  late, 

And  pass  my  days  without  a  single  sigh  ; 

But  I  shall  equal  thee  in  destiny, 
And  give  myself  in  bond  to  sharpest  woe, 

For  thee  I  shall  my  very  wrath  deny, 
Be  placable  to  friend,  and  e'en  to  foe." 


IPHIGENIA  AT  AULIS.  89 

on. 

So  thought  Achilles  then,  when  he  had  seen 
In  wonderment  of  love  that  spirit  staid ; 

But  on  the  Trojan  plain  in  quarrel  keen 
Hereafter  will  forget  the  vow  he  made, 
And  turn  to  wrath  that  will  not  soon  be  laid, 

Unmindful  of  his  country,  friends,  and  cause, 
For  vanished  is  the  image  of  the  maid ; 

Dark  lines  through  his  bright  fame  a  Fury  draws. 

cm. 

Yet  memory  of  her  afresh  will  live 

When  he  doth  weep  o'er  dear  Patroclus  slain  : 
He,  rueful,  will  his  Grecian  foe  forgive, 

Now  softened  by  the  mighty  mass  of  pain ; 

Yet  to  forgetfulness  will  fall  again 
And  her  sweet  image  blot  in  Trojan  strife  ; 

Then  will  compassion  cleanse  at  last  that  stain, 
And  give  to  Priam  old  both  son  and  life. 

CIV. 

Rumor    went    buzzing    through    the    gathered 
Greeks, 

It  told  the  sacrifice  of  high  degree, 
Whose  blood  would  end  delay  of  many  weeks, 

And  bring  fair  winds  upon  a  tranquil  sea, 

Yet  fetching  too  the  fierce  fatality. 
Their  hearts  were  torn,  it  was  a  time  of  wail, 

Low  words  they  moaned  of  crushed  anxiety, 
That  day  all  wished  the  fleet  might  never  sail. 


AGAMEMNON'S  DAUGHTER. 

cv. 

Still  the  Euboic  hills  detained  the  sun, 

Who  threw  upon  their  peaks  his  last  of  light 

For  that  one  day,  and  then  his  course  was  done; 
In  silence  flew  the  silken  wings  of  night, 
To  brush  out  of  the  skies  the  cloudlets  bright, 

And  tinted  films  hung  high  on  heaven's  way; 
Then  sank  into  the  mist  the  mountain  height, 

And  twilight  poured  its  flood  on  Aulis'  bay. 

I  CVI. 

I  Meantime  they  bore  the  maiden  to  the  shrine, 
Which  lay  upon  a  knoll  within  a  wood  ; 

There  Calchas  led  her  through  a  weeping  line 
Of  massive  men  who  round  her  pathway  stood, 
To  see  the  highest  worth  of  womanhood; 

The  hearts  of  all  burst  out  in  tearful  rue, 
As  they  beheld  in  her  what  was  the  good, 

And  made  the  vow  to  her  they  would  be  true. 

CVII. 

The  fair  white  fane  of  marbled  Artemis 
A  smile  into  the  twilight  seemed  to  throw; 

From  its  fond  pillars  flowed  a  silent  kiss 

Which  showered  love  around  the  deed  of  woe, 
As  there  in  flight  of  stone  she  grasped  her  bow 

To  save  a  fleeing  fawn  from  savage  chase; 
She  touched  the  arrow  in  a  sacred  glow, 

The  very  marble  lit  up  in  her  face. 


IPHIGJSNIA  AT  AULIS. 


CVIII. 
Within  the  door  the  maiden  disappears, 

A  cloud  descends  and  fills  the  holy  space, 
And  for  a  moment  sheds  its  gentle  tears, 

Till  every  leaf  and  grass-blade  in  the  place 

Hath  on  it  one  pure  drop  of  sorrow's  grace, 
And  bends  to  let  it  fall  upon  the  ground, 

Which  swallows  it  at  once  and  shows  no  trace, 
Though  leaf  and  grass,  freed  from  the  weight, 
rebound. 

CIX. 

But  soon  with  ragged  rent  is  pierced  the    cloud. 
And  through  it  looks  the  silver-shining  moon, 

Which  softly  floods  the  melancholy  crowd, 
And  to  a  music  sweet  doth  them  attune, 
While  they  quite  sink  away  into  its  swoon ; 

It  drives  far  off  the  night  with  the  dark  cloud, 
And  out  the  air  into  her  lunar  noon 

The  Goddess  stepped  at  once  and  spake  aloud : 

CX. 

"  Thy  time  is  full,  thee  have  I  come  to  save, 
As  promised  in  Mycenae  from  my  shrine ; 

Men  say  I  in  revenge  thy  life  must  have, 
Because  thy  father  slew  with  heart  malign 
The  guiltless  fawn  he  knew  I  loved  as  mine; 

But  no!  the  Goddess  must  not  vengeance  pay, 
Not  death  for  death  can  be  the  law  divine, 

Though  he  slay  mine,  his  shall  I  never  jilay. 


92  AGAMEMNON'S  DAUGHTER. 

CXI. 

"  The  Gods  must  not  revengeful  be  to  man, 
Else  they  will  not  escape  his  penalty ; 

The  Gods  must  also  learn,  and  learn  they  can , 
To  give  up  hate,  and  turn  to  charity, 
Whereby  alone  we  Gods  are  whole  and  free. 

The  Greeks  shall  deem  thee  dead,  with  grief  be 

racked, 
But  sacrifice  they  shall  hereafter  see, 

And  find  the  richer  blessing  for  thine  act. 

CXIL 
"  But  to  myself  I  shall  now  rescue  thee, 

I,  the  mild  Goddess  dare  not  take  thy  blood ; 
Thee  shall  I  bear  away  to^Barbary^-- 

There  in  a  land  remote  todothe  good, 

Anew  the  offering  for  a  multitude 
Vaster  than  all  on  earth  to  be  now  found  ; 

The  world,  all  time  thy  deed  will  yet  include, 
Far  wilt  thou  pass  beyond  the  Grecian  bound. 

CXIII. 

"  This  hour  auspicious  gales  begin  to  blow, 

Helen,  the  erring  one,  is  to  return, 
The  armament  shall  crush  the  Trojan  foe 

Through  deed  of  thine  to-day,  which  men  will 
burn 

To  imitate,  and  from  a  maiden  learn 
To  offer  life  for  land  and  family ; 

With  Helen  home,  thou  too  wilt  homeward  turn, 
And  Greece  once  saved,  is  saved  again  by  thee." 


IPHIGENIA  AT  AULIS.  93 

CXIV. 

The  moon  has  fled  with  night,  and  timid  rays 
Of  rosy  dawn  into  the  heavens  rise ; 

While  in  the  woods  a  godlike  presence  prays, 
Soft  hymns  of  triumph  float  up  to  the  skies, 
Bearing  aloft  a  world  of  harmonies; 

The  Greeks  rush  to  the  fane  to  hear  the  word, 
The  ax  unbloody  on  the  altar  lies, 

The  maid  is  gone,  and  naught  of  her  is  heard. 

cxv. 

v 

Astonied  they  all  stand  at  plan  divine ; 

But  see,  there  is  another  wonder  new : 
The  fawn  that  dead  was  lying  at  the  shrine, 

Rose  up  to  sudden  life  before  their  view, 

And  to  its  perfect  strength  at  once  it  grew; 
Unharmed  through  all  the  gazing  crowd  it  flees, 

No  stains  upon  the  grass  it  now  doth  strew, 
Arid  soon  from  sight  is  lost  amid  the  trees. 


CXVI. 

A  wave  of  silent  sorrow  sways  the  host, 

No  heart  so  dumb  but  feels  the  common  pain  ; 

They  would  have  spared  her  death  at  any  cost, 
But  somehow  felt  it  was  her  greatest  gain 
And  theirs,  to  die  for  them  without  a  stain  ; 

A  universal  tear  doth  make  them  one  — 
One  people  now,  and  ready  to  be  slain  ; 

By  that  sole  maiden's  deed  it  has  been  done. 


94  AGAMEMNON'S  DAUGHTER. 

CXVII. 

"  This  law  of  deity  each  man  must  find, 

Sorrow  alone  can  purify  the  heart, 
And  make  it  deeply  one  with  its  own  kind, 

Whereby  in  all  it  feels  its  own  keen  smart ; 

Charity  then  comes  and  draws  the  dart, 
Compassion  cures,  yet  is  the  child  of  pain; 

The  Gods  give  first  a  loss,  in  loving  part, 
Whereby  to  give  in  turn  a  greater  gain." 

CXVIII. 

Thus  Calchas  first  that  solemn  silence  broke, 
As  in  deep  thought  he  out  the  wood  did  wend, 

And  to  the  people  round  him  further  spoke: 
"  I  thought  the  maiden's  death  to  be  the  end 
To  which  the  Goddess  did  her  power  bend  ; 

But  I  the  priest  must  learn  a  lesson  late 

Through  this  clear  maid,  that  Gods  must  not 
offend 

By  vengeance,  but  be  themselves  compassionate." 

CXIX. 

Then  Palamedes  spoke,  the  rightful  man : 

"  I  too  have  learned  the  lesson  of  this  day, 
And  a  new  glimpse  have  had  into  the  plan 

Of  Zeus  who  over  all  doth  bear  the  sway; 

In  pride  of  right  I  spurned  the  castaway, 
I  thought  myself  so  good,  her  not  t'endure  ; 

I  change,  I  go  to  Troy  for  Helen,  and  pray, 
For  the  distained  may  there  I  die  the  pure." 


IPHIGENIA  AT  AULI8.  95 

cxx. 

All  Grecian  hearts  are  beating  to  one  throb, 

They  are  one  wave  of  vast  humanity, 
With  undertone  of  sigh  or  secret  sob, 

That  breaks  up  from  that  sympathetic  sea ; 

Silent  is  glory  and  moral  vanity, 
Assemblies  are  not  needed,  there  is  heard 

An  inner  voice  of  last  authority, 
Which  every  man  obeys  without  a  word. 

CXXI. 

They  go  down  to  the  beach  in  quietude, 
The  waters  rest  in  calm  transparency 

Reflecting  hill  and  cloud  in  peaceful  mood; 
They  go  into  a  thousand  ships  which  lie 
Upon  the  bay  beneath  the  tranquil  sky, 

They  touch  the  pictured  deep  with  muffled  oar, 
The  silent  tear  to  Hellas  says  good-bye, 

And  drops  at  thought  of  seeing  it  no  more. 

CXXII. 

Yet  with  a  heavier  sorrow  they  are  fraught, 

A  deeper  loss  than  Helen's  fills  the  host, 
Each  soul  within  the  fleet  has  this  one  thought, 

What's  Helen  saved  with  Iphigenia  lost? 

What  recompense  is  greater  than  the  cost? 
Unless  there  be  some  other  restoration 

Beyond  fair  Helen's,  beauty  the  uttermost 
Will  never  save  itself  nor  save  the  nation. 


96  AGAMEMNON1  S  DAUGHTER. 

CXXIII. 
Again  the  feeling  winds  begin  to  blow, 

Not  now  with  vengeful  whistle  of  a  squall, 
But  piping  a  delicious  music  low 

That  drives  the  fleet  to  its  soft  tuneful  fall , 

Whose  long  melodious  beats  the  oars  enthrall, 
Yet  underneath  a  note  of  sweet  distress 

Sings  in  the  Winds,  and  tunes  the  souls  of  all 
To  tender  grief  akin  to  blessedness  : 

CXXIV. 
"  Oh  let  us  sing  our  song,  our  farewell  song! 

We  too,  the  blasts,  are  conquered  by  the  maid ; 
However  long  we  blow,  however  strong, 

We  in  that  higher  harmony  are  laid 

To  which  the  Gods  serene  the  world  have  made  ; 
Whatever  be  the  time,  the  clime,  the  creed, 

Be  it  the  king  or  slave,  the  due  is  paid, 
For  pain,  for  gain,  we  blow  to  man  his  deed." 

cxxv. 

Thus  sang  the  Winds,  it  was  of  songs  their  last 
Nought  more  they  had  to  sing,  their  voice  was 
lost ; 

They  breathed  their   gentle  breath   on  sail  and 

mast, 

The  ships  no  longer  were  by  tempest  tossed, 
By  lightning  burned,  or  frozen  fast  in  frost ; 

Hark  now  the  ripple  of  the  sunny  sea, 

As  up  and  down  it  rocks  the  parting  host ! 

Look,  there  is  Troy  I  Helen,  thou  must  be  free. 


Canto  Third. 

a  at 

Service  and  Release. 


(97) 


ARGUMENT. 

Iphigenia  is  now  brought  to  Town's,  the  land  of  the 
Barbarians,  in  care  of  the  Hours  (JETorce),  ivho  here 
constitute  a  chorus,  and  who,  according  to  Homer,  open 
and  shut  Olympus.  TJieir  song,  soothing,  forewarning, 
runs  through  the  whole  Canto,  which  has  two  chief  por 
tions  :  first,  the  mission  of  the  priestess  to  the  Taurians, 
along  with  the  love  of  Thoas  the  King;  secondly,  her 
dealings  with  her  crazed  brother  Orestes,  whose  coming 
and  cure  are  narrated,  and  then  with  King  Thoas,  who 
is  also  to  be  cured. 

I.  A  description  of  the  wild  Taurian  land  is  given. 
Its  people  make  human  sacrifices  to  their  deity,  they 
disregard  all  training  of  body  and  mind,  in  con 
trast  ivith  the  Greeks.  Though  longing  to  return  to  her 
own  country,  Iphigenia  at  once  goes  to  work  to.trans- 
form  land,  people  and  King  info  all  that  she  is  and  all 
that  Hellas  is.  She  imparts  cultivation  of  the  soil  and 
mastery  of  nature;  she  teaches  the  old  Greek  poetry  and 
mythology;  but  above  all,  she  inspires  the  rude  Barba 
rians  with  humanity.  Moreover  she  trains  other 
priestesses  like  herself,  who  bring  light  to  the  remotest 
corners  of  that  dark  world. 

From  the  beginning,  TJioas,  the  King  of  the  Barbarians, 
Jias  been  in  love  with  the  beautiful  priestess,  who  has  to 
shun  his  advances  and  thwart  his  purposes  as  they  in 
terfere  with  her  priestly  vocation,  and  will,  besides, 
(98) 


prevent  her  return  to  Greece,  which  she  feels  to  be  an 
integral  part  of  her  great  mission.  But  Thoas,  in  his 
wrath  at  the  refusal,  gives  signs  of  relapsing  into  his  old 
habits  of  savagery,  and  she  seems  about  to  lose  the  chief 
fruit  of  her  work,  when  she  goes  to  the  shrine  of  Artemis 
and  prays.  But  the  Hours  whisper  an  answer  to  her 
prayer,  that  the  Gods  are  doing  their  part.  (7. — LXV. ) 

//.  Meanwhile  Orestes,  the  brother  of  Iphigenia,  has 
arrived  from  Greece,  with  his  friend  Pylades,  in 
obedience  to  an  oracle  of  Apollo,  who  commanded  him 
to  bring  back  his  sister.  Thus  Orestes,  it  was  declared, 
would  obtain  relief  from  the  pursuit  of  the  Furies  for 
having  slain  his  mother.  Brother  and  sister  come 
together  in  the  temple  at  Tauris,  they  converse,  she  learns 
of  the  fall  of  Troy,  of  the  death  of  her  father  slain  by 
her  mother,  of  the  death  of  her  mother  slain  by  her 
brother,  who  now  falls  down  in  a  fit  of  madness  before 
her.  Pylades  tells  her  the  ambiguous  oracle  and  Iphi- 
genia  interprets  it,  and  discovers  herself.  Orestes  hears 
the  healing  word,  and  rises  from  his  Jit;  he  is  cured  of 
revenge,  and,  hence,  of  the  pursuit  of  the  Furies. 

But  scarce  has  he  announced  his  spirit's  restoration, 
when  Thoas,  mad  with  love  and  revenge,  breaks  into 
her  presence  and  threatens  all  three  Greeks  with  death 
according  to  the  Taurian  custom.  But  him  too  the 
priestess  heals;  he  repents;  he  sends  her  to  Greece,  even 
goes  himself  to  help  restore  her  to  her  land.  So  all  the 
Barbarians  show  themselves  ready  to  help  rescue  Hellas 
from  its  enemies.  But  Hellas  has  also  an  internal 
enemy  of  whom  it  must  noto  free  itself,  and  whose 
ominous  strain  is  heard  in  the  distance.  (LXVL  to 
the  end.) 

(99) 


I. 

Hark !  a  new  note  !  though  all  the  Winds  be  laid 
Which  back  to  man  his  guilty  action  sing ! 

O,  list,  a  deeper  thrill !  Where  is  the  maid 
Who  came  to  Aulis,  daughter  of  the  King, 
And  gave  herself  for  all  an  offering? 

Another  song !  A  sweeter  softer  strain ! 

That  note  of  love  the  Heavens  seem  to  bring ! 

Out  of  the  whispering  North  it  falls  again  : 

II. 

"  Tread  softly,  softly,  in  our  silent  round, 
Speed  swiftly,  swiftly,  and  the  burden  bear  ; 

Our  winged  feet  must  never  touch  the  ground, 
When  we  have  come,  we  are  no  longer  there, 
What  is  to  be,  is  evermore  our  care; 

Softly  we  tread,  as  light  as  breath  of  flowers, 
Swiftly  we  speed,  unseen  upon  the  air  — 

The  softly-treadiug,  swiftly-stepping  Hours." 

(101) 


102  AGAMEMNON'S  DAUGHTER. 

II. 

Far  in  the  north  imbedded  lies  a  sea, 

Around  whose  chilly  marge  the  tempests  rave, 

And  lash  its  forests  dark  of  savagery ; 
Upon  the  dreary  shore  a  lonely  cave 
Leans  down   its   ragged  mouth   to  touch  the 
wave, 

That  sends  into  the  deep  recess  a  moan 
On  endless  billows,  which  the  lintel  lave, 

Or  swell  to  kiss  the  dome  of  drooping  stone. 

III. 

One  narrow  heaving  path  of  watery  flow 
From  Hellas  leads  unto  that  far-off  place, 

Whereby  a  Grecian  ship  would  sometimes  go, 
And  break  the  silence  of  the  vasty  space, 
But  soon  would  flee  in  fear  of  savage  race  ; 

Or  if  the  vessel  ran  into  the  grot, 

All  perished  there  unseen  and  left  no  trace  ; 

This  Tauris  was,  to  Greek  a  fearful  spot. 

IV. 
Here  was  the  fane  by  eldest  Titans  built, 

With  pillars   dropped  from   gemmed   ceilings 

down ; 
Upon  its  altar  human  blood  was  spilt 

Unto  an  idol  there  in  stony  gown, 

An  ugly  idol  with  a  horrid  frown, 
That  loved  to  see  the  victim  in  his  gore, 

Or  watch  him  in  the  surges  helpless  drown ; 
The  Taurian  Goddess  she  who  held  this  shore. 


IPHIGENIA  AT  TAUHIS.  103 

V. 

"  Tread  softly,  softly,  in  our  silent  round, 
Bend  slowly,  slowly,  and  the  burden  bear; 

Here  is  the  place  —  now  set  it  on  the  ground, 
Behold  the  form  of  sleeping  maiden  fair 
Who  in  her  journey  long  hath  been  our  care. 

Hark  to  the  call  of  Time  —  we  must  not  stay, 
Breathe  on  her  eyelids  but  a  breath  of  air ; 

She  stirs !  she  wakes !  we  go,  but  she  must  stay." 

VI. 

Within  the  grot  asleep  the  maiden  lay, 

Iphigenia,  there  divinely  borne  ; 
She  woke  and  went  to  seek  the  radiant  day, 

But  saw  dim  fog-light  on  a  world  forlorn ; 

The  heart   dropped  in  her  breast  to  see  that 

morn, 
No  columns  wrought  upheld  in  joy  her  soul, 

She  only  saw  huge  rocks  by  water  worn, 
No  sunny  temple,  but  a  dark,  dank  hole. 

VII. 

Such  was  the  change  from  her  fair  Grecian  home : 
No  trailing  vineyard  waved  within  her  look, 

With  leaves  and  vines  that  over  hillsides  roam, 
With  Bacchus  garlanded  along  the  brook, 
While   maids  from  trees   the  golden  fruitage 
shook, 

Or  did  in  merry  song  ripe  clusters  cull ; 
No  God  or  Goddess  in  each  sacred  nook, 

In  sun-born  shape  revealed  the  Beautiful. 


104  AGAMEMNON'S  DAUGHTER. 

VIII. 

The  Olive,  pyramid  of  fruit  and  green, 
Rose  not,  the  very  tree  of  Pallas  wise  ; 

The  sunshine  came,  but  not  with  that  soft  sheen 
Which  glows  within  the  liquid  Doric  skies, 
And  falls  on  sea  and  land  a  Paradise; 

No  smiling  sunlike  rays  of  yellow  corn 
Shot  up  to  greet  the  glad  festivities, 

And  wrapped  the  earth  in  endless  golden  morn. 

IX. 

The  howl  was  heard  of  savage  roaming  beast 
Above  the  endless  sough  of  forest  drear ; 

Each  preyed  on  each,  from  largest  to  the  least, 
The  lion  in  his  hunt  would  straggle  near, 
Hisbloody  trail  would  print  the  stones  with  fear ; 

The  falcon  in  the  skies  would  claw  the  dove, 
The  cruel  pard  below  would  tear  the  deer, 

The  eagle  clove  the  hare,  then  soared  above. 

X. 

Wild  were  the  beasts,  and  wilder  yet  the  men  : 
Of  whom  a  sudden  rout  sprang  out  the  wood, 

And  hurried  to  the  fane  through  tangled  fen ; 
A  shaggy  fell  hung  round  the  body  nude, 
They  howled  in  savage  dance  and  gesture  rude, 

While  in  their  midst  a  prisoner  was  bound  j 
Expecting  death,  he  oft  in  terror  stood, 

Or  oft  was  fiercely  dragged  along  the  ground. 


IPIUGENIA  AT  TAUItlS.  105 

XI. 
Yet  once  from  his  tormentors  he  did  leap, 

And  fled  away  as  fleet  as  any  deer, 
And  sprang  into  the  sea  far  down  a  steep ; 

The  maiden  looked  with  sympathetic  fear, 

To  her  at  once  the  wretched  man  grew  dear ; 
She  hoped  he  might  escape  but  he  was  caught, 

Whereat  within  her  eye  welled  up  the  tear, 
As  she  on  him  and  on  herself  too,  thought. 

XII. 
Him  struggling  to  that  very  fane  they  bore, 

A  sacrifice  to  Goddess  there  to  pay, 
They  saw  what  they  had  never  seen  before, 

A  maiden  put  herself  within  their  way  ; 

She  bade  them  not  the  guiltless  captive  slay, 
But  offered  them  herself  instead  of  him  ; 

Blood  ceased  to  flow  on  Taurian  shrine  that 

day, 
And  reverence  did  soften  bosoms  grim. 

XIII. 
Thoas  was  there,  of  all  that  region  king  ; 

He  kept  his  people  back  by  his  strong  word, 
When  he  beheld  the  maiden  offering; 

By  her  one  look  his  heart  was  strangely  stirred, 

Then  by  her  gentle  hand  he  was  deterred  ; 
Awe  seized  him,  as  in  her  the  Gods  above 

He  saw,  and  then  a  softer  note  he  heard : 
The  awe  divine  began  to  whisper  love. 


106  AGAMEMNON1  S  DAUGHTER. 

XIV. 

"  Oh!  where  am  I  "  the  lonely  maiden  cried, 
"  What  will  become  of  me  if  here  I  stay  ! 

I  thought  within  the  fane  I  once  had  died, 
Then  twice  am  I  to  die —  die  every  day  — 
What  shapes  fleet  yonder  on  the  air  this  way  ? 

O  speak  me  help  and  heart,  ye  Spirit  Powers  !  " 
To  her  in  soft  response  arose  a  lay ; 

Thus  sang  the  swiftly-stepping,  soothing  Hours : 

XV. 

"  The  maid  who  once  was  by  the  Goddess  spared, 

She  must  now  others  save  in  that  same  need, 
Again  must  do  what  she  at  Aulis  dared, 

An  offering  for  her  own  kind  to  bleed ; 

It  is  the  consecration  of  her  deed, 
Her  sacrifice  she  will  henceforth  repeat, 

Until  it  is  become  her  life  and  creed, 
And  every  day  her  death  she  dares  to  meet. 

XVI. 

"  She  is  to  tame  to  peace  these  bosoms  wild, 
And  make  them  lose  their  mad  delight  in  blood  ; 

It  is  her  task  to  put  her  spirit  mild 
Into  the  soul  of  men  however  rude, 
And  make  it  bear  her  image  of  the  good; 

When  she  the  fierce  barbarian  hath  won, 
Vengeance  no  more  shall  be  his  daily  food 

He  shall  forever  do  as  she  hath  done." 


IPHIGENIA  AT  TAUEIK. 


107* 


XVII. 

So  sang  the  Hours,  still  longed  she  for  her  land, 

The  Hellas  far  away,  which  had  her  slain 
In  its  own  thought,  yet  by  divine  command, 

When  she  at  Aulis  entered Dian's  fane; 

But  now  the  long,  long  years  she  must  remain 
Within  this  distant  savage  wilderness, 

Busy  until  her  time  be  come  again ; 
Yet  could  she  not  the  bitter  sigh  suppress : 

XVIII. 

"  How  heavy  o'er  me  hang  these  leaden  skies ! 

O  where  is  sunshine,  where  my  own  fair  clime 
And  its  fair  works  that  everywhere  uprise 

In  splendor  on  the  land  and  sea  sublime ! 

The  song  and  dance  of  youths  in  golden  prime, 
Labors  of  men,  the  sowing  of  the  seed, 

The  forms  of  Gods  far  looking  down  on  Time, 
The  heroes  great  and  the  heroic  deed ! 

XIX. 

1 '  It  is  a  gloomy  land,  a  savage  brood, 
Where  I  must  pass  my  youthful  holiday ; 

The  people  know  nought  of  the  fair  or  good, 
But  from  all  human  feeling  turn  away, 
They  kill  themselves,  and  me  perchance  will 
slay. 

Yet  I  have  now  to  change  them  by  my  life ; 
Yes,  home  is  here,  I  feel,  and  I  must  stay, 

And  bring  a  world  of  peace  out  of  the  strife. 


108  AGAMEMNOWS  DAUGHTER, 

XX. 

"  The  time  has  come,  another  Greece  to  make 
In  new-born  hope  spring  from  this  weary  wild  ; 

I  shall  both  for  its  own  and  for  my  sake 
Transform  it  daily  to  the  image  mild 
Which  hath  on  men  from  Hellas  ever  smiled ; 

I  think  the  Olive  may  be  hither  brought, 
Though  of  the  sunny  skies  it  be  the  child, 

But  surely  works  of  hand  may  here  be  wrought. 

XXI. 

"  The  labors  of  the  oxen  at  the  plow 

Are  first  to  tame  to  peace  the  savage  earth  ; 

In  brotherhood  the  horse,  and  sheep,  and  cow 
Shall  gather  round  the  tranquil  human  hearth, 
And  even  brutes  receive  their  higher  worth  ; 

This  horrent  waste  I  see  rise  up  before 
All  others  hitherto  in  a  new  birth  : 

'Twill  be  what  Hellas  is,  it  will  be  more." 

XXII. 

So  flashed  afar  in  dreams  her  shadowy  thought : 
More  than  what  Hellas  hath  she  will  impart 

Unto  that  savage  folk  ;  it  will  be  taught 
A  deeper  Beauty  and  a  holier  Art, 
Which  is  the  inner  flow  of  human  heart ; 

The  people  will  to  nobler  regions  rise, 

Her  deed,  her  life  become  their  highest  part  — 

She  will  endow  them  with  her  sacrifice. 


IPHIGENIA  AT  TAUBIS.  109 

XXIII. 

The  bound  of  Barbary  she  will  transcend, 

And  make  all  Greek  beyond  the  Grecian  pale; 

The  gentile  hate  in  her  will  have  an  end 
When  her  new  spirit  shall  in  love  prevail, 
And  free  the  prisoned  world  from  its  own  jail; 

Old  Hellas  too,  will  share  her  blessing  great, 
The  distant  threat  she  sweeps  from   hill  and 
dale  — 

For  the  Hellenic  land  she  breaks  down  Fate. 

XXIV. 

And  there  alone  she  stayed  for  twenty  years 
With  that  sole  purpose  in  her  sincere  breast; 

She  moved  through  troubled  seas  of  hopes  and 

fears, 

Still  on  she  went  in  faith  with  all  her  zest, 
And  never  failed  to  think  and  do  the  best ; 

The  people  came  to  see  her  from  afar, 

They  went  away  with  her  high  soul  possessed, 

And  to  her  looking  up  as  to  their  star. 

XXV. 

The  noisome  grot  she  turned  to  temple  fair, 
With  columns  white  that  stood  along  the  seas 

And  saw  their  limpid  beauty  imaged  there, 
With  wavy  architrave  and  flowing  freize, 
And  sculptured  shapes  of  liquid  deities  ; 

The  ugly  idol  rose  no  more  to  view, 

The  Taurian  shrine  no  bloody  death  decrees, 

The  Goddess  is  herself  transformed  too. 


110  AGAMEMNON* 8  DAUGHTER. 

XXVI. 

With  her  are  all  the  Gods  of  Greece  transformed 
Into  fresh  founts  of  mild  beatitude, 

By  a  new  inner  sun  their  looks  are  warmed, 
Not  now  the  horrid  Taurian  monster  rude, 
Whose    stony    frown   was    with    cold  death 
bedewed, 

But  sweet  Greek  Artemis  is  throned  above, 
The  Goddess  who  refused  the  maiden's  blood, 

And  looked  beyond  Olympus,  seat  of  Jove. 

XXVII. 
Demeter,  too,  sought  in  that  land  a  home, 

Where  she  did  sow  broad-cast  her  f  oodf  ul  seed, 
Which  springs  on  heights  or  low  in  valleys'  loam, 

Wherewith  she  might  the  teeming  millions  feed, 

And  no  one  in  her  bounty  suffer  need ; 
The  cattle  grazed  on  every  hill  in  peace, 

On  endless  plains  of  pasture  roamed  the  steed, 
And  mother  earth  gave  forth  her  full   increase. 

XXVIII. 
And  all  the  land  was  filled  with  gardens  sweet, 

Which  Pallas  made  her  favored  dwelling  place, 
Where  stood  fair  boys   of    bronze   that  moved 
their  feet, 

And  steeds  of  stone  that  ran  the  swiftest  race, 

And  tripods  moving  to  and  fro  with  grace ; 
Within  each  brazen  bosom  breathed  sweet  life, 

The  fiercest  struggle  calmed  in  marble  face, 
That  told  the  Greek  and  the  Barbarian  strife. 


IPHIGENIA  AT   TAUBIS.  Ill 

XXIX. 

The  maiden  taught  the  labors  of  the  loom, 
In  which  her  own  strange  life  she  deftly  wove, 

Her  youth's  deep  dream,  and  then  her  sudden 

doom; 

Her  web  could  tell  how  the  great  heroes  strove, 
Eeveal  the  deed  of  wrath,  the  deed  of  love, 

Her  Taurian  life  she  did  therein  unfold, 
How  it  flowed  on  within  the  plan  of  Jove: 

In  gold  and  purple  threads  the  tale  was  told. 

XXX. 

She  tells  anew  the  Grecian  histories, 
The  mighty  gests  of  great  Bellerophon, 

Yet  coupled  with  the  saddest,  destinies  ; 

The  highest  deed  doth  hold  the  deepest  groan, 
And  greatness  is  but  suffering  alone  ; 

That  Hero  vanquished  monsters  of  the  East, 
And  made  the  fair  Hellenic  world  his  own, 

Then  senseless  roamed  the  field  as  any  beast. 

XXXI. 

She  tells  the  fairest  story  of  the  sea, 

Of  ship  that  bore  the  princely  Argonaut ; 

She  lapped  the  tale  in  folds  of  poesy 

More  rich  than  all  the  gold  the  vessel  brought, 
Yet  with  her  own  deep  store  of  wisdom  fraught ; 

Barbaric  minds  now  build  that  ship  of  Greece, 
Which  newer  Colchian  treasures  further  sought, 

And  bore  to  their  own  land  the  Golden  Fleece. 


112  AGAMEMNON'S  DAUGHTER. 

XXXII. 

But  of  the  many  wondrous  tales  she  told, 
The  chief  was  legend  of  stout  Hercules, 

The  mighty  darling  of  romances  old, 

Who  had  to  labor  through  all  lands  and  seas, 
Until  the  earth  of  his  fierce  foes  he  frees ; 

He  drained  the  bog,  the  mountain  way  he  rent, 
He  turned  the  rivers,  felled  the  forest  trees, 

By  him  this  earth  was  made  man's  instrument. 

XXXIII. 
The  wildest  beasts,  the  wildest  men  he  tamed, 

When  Greece  her  wilderness  began  to  shed, 
And  the  first  law  for  human  living  framed ; 

But  when  he  over  every  land  had  sped, 

And  bravely  freed  it  of  its  monsters  dread, 
He  must  descend  to  Hades,  free  it  too 

Of  its  damned  dog  which  guards  the  gloomy 

dead  ; 
Both  worlds,  above,  below,  he  must  pass  through. 

XXXIV. 

To  the  Barbarians  the  myth  she  sings, 

Which  they  take  up  and  sing  in  their  own  tongue 

Through  all  the  distant  realms  of  icy  kings, 
Beside  the  northern  seas,  and  up  among 
The  frosty  blasts,  whence  Boreas  is  flung 

Upon  the  south,  where  scarce  the  sun  will  shine  ; 
Deep  unknown  rivers  float  the  strains    there 
sung, 

And  bards  chant  from  the  Danube  to  the  Rhine. 


IPHIGENIA  AT   TAURUS.  113 

XXXV. 

The  Getans  of  the  furthest  Dacian  plain 
Catch  up  the  echo  of  Hellenic  lay, 

And  warp  and  weave  it  in  their  Gothic  strain, 
That  floats  beneath  the  Hyperborean  day, 
And  wraps  itself  in  misty  folds  of  gray, 
X  Far,  far  beyond  the  sunny  Ionian  skies, 

Where  now  Europa  sleeps  her  time  away, 

And  where  in  might  hereafter  she  will  rise. 

XXXVI. 

In  magic  spell  of  strange  barbaric  measures 
Are  hymned  those  antique  fables  never  trite ; 

And  all  the  storied  world   of  Grecian   treasures 
Is  richly  there  inlaid  with  fancies  bright, 
That  flash  and  soar  in  new  poetic  flight, 

Though  still  they  keep  their  first  Hellenic  soul ; 
The  ancient  germ  doth  now  unfold  to  light, 

And  its  deep  hidden  wealth  in  time  unroll. 

XXXVII. 
A  weird  spirit  entered  in  the  word, 

Which  danced   as   if  possessed   and   sparkled 

round ; 
Then  by  some  harmony  most  deeply  strirred, 

It  wooed  another  like  itself  in  sound, 

Until  the  happy  pair  were  linked  and  bound  ; 
So  word  would  chase  another  word  to  kiss, 

In  many  strains  of  love  they  locked  and  wound, 
And  gave  to  man  a  foretaste  of  his  bliss. 


114  AGAMEMNON'S  DAUGHTER. 

XXXVIII. 

Through  all  that  wilderness  sang  Helen's  story, 

In  sweet  melodic  concords  of  the  rhyme ; 
It  builded  up  afresh  an  olden  glory, 

Though  now   transplanted   from    its   Grecian 
clime, 

And  moving  to  another  tune  and  time; 
The  very  sounds  of  it  were  wont  to  wed, 

As  winged  with  Eros,  they  uprose  sublime, 
And  glowed  in  raptured  flight  with  passion  red. 

XXXIX. 

It  melted  to  its  thrill  the  wildest  heart, 

Which   felt   the  honeyed  spell  of  that    great 

love, 
And  felt  the  pain,  which  was  its  other  part, 

Sent  down  on  guilty  pair  from  Gods  above ; 

The  human  deed  inside  the  will  of  Jove, 
With  all  the  strains  of  noble  minstrelsy, 

In  one  vast  strand  of  destiny  was  wove  ; 
That  guilt,  to  be  o'ercome,  had  first  to  be. 

XL. 

Far  on  the  air  resounds  that  song  of  songs, 
Through  all  the  spacious  realms  of  Barbary, 

It  flames  the  hearts  of  bards,  who  rise  in  throngs, 
To  sing  that  lay  of  deep  fatality, 
And  then  the  still  more  deep  recovery  ; 

It  is  the  eternal  song  which  they  must  sing, 
They  hymn  in  it  their  own  true  history, 

What  Time  has  brought  and  will  forever  bring. 


IPHIGENIA  AT  TAURIS.  115 

XLI. 

The  lay  of  Helen  far  resounded  then, 

And  still  resounds   afresh   through   all  those 
lands ; 

It  weaves  its  magic  chain  in  souls  of  men, 

And  holds  them  tranced  in  its  fine  golden  bands 
Which  seem  to  grow  to  be  life's  very  strands  : 

The  oldest  song  and  yet  the  latest  too, 
It  bears  the  human  and  divine  commands, 

True  in  that  elder  world  and  in  this  new. 

XLII. 

Ah  me,  could  I  but  catch  one  straying  shred 
Of  that  high  strain  and  fix  it  in  my  line, 

As  it  comes  floating  down,  to  music  wed, 
I,  the  barbaric  singer,  might  now  shine 
And  call  my  sisters  all  the  Muses  nine. 

But  one  is  born  too  late,  aye,  or  too  soon  ; 
'Tis  all  the  same,  without  the  light  divine, 

To  watch  at  night  or  go  to  bed  at  noon. 

XLIII. 

But  hark  !  again  that  sound  upon  the  air ! 

It  fleets  like  straying  note  of  hidden  bird ! 
A  voice  now  falls  around  the  maiden  there  ! 

And  now  it  speaks  a  strong  prophetic  word, 

Whereby  she  in  her  very  soul  is  stirred. 
From  Past  to  Future  turn  the  secret  Powers, 

And  in  their  voices  Time  himself  is  heard; 
Hear  them  foretell,  the  swiftly-stepping  Hours : 


116  AGAMEMNOWS  DAUGHTER. 

XLIV. 

"  Thou,  maiden,  art  to  teach  a  nobler  lay  — 
It  is  the  lay  of  Helen's  restoration 

Through  thine  own  sacrifice,  upon  that  day 
When  thou  didst  offer  life  for  the  salvation 
Of  the  lost  woman  and  the  lost  nation ; 

By  that  high  deed  was  made  the  future  path 
Whereon  man  travels  to  his  godlike  station, 

And  with  him  bears  the  world  from  its  own  wrath. 

XLV. 

"  And  deeper,  warmer  still  shall  flow  the  stream, 

The  tuneful  stream  of  song  in  pulses  great, 
Which  all  the  wilds  to  clear  away  shall  seem, 

And  cleanse  the  savage  heart  of  all  its  hate  ; 

It  is  the  song  of  maiden  dedicate 
In  barbarous  Tauris  now  as  once  in  Greece ; 

It  hymns  her  life  supreme,  there  consecrate 
That  world  as  well  as  Hellas  to  release. 

XLVI. 

*«  It  tells  how  each  is  to  regard  the  other, 

Deeper  than  difference  is  unity, 
The  man  is  to  behold  in  man  his  brother, 

And  bind  him  to  himself  in  kindred  tie  ; 

Thine  is  the  golden  word  of  charity, 
Which  stops  the  hate  of  men,  the  war  of  nations, 

Which  melts  to  one  the  human  family, 
And  interlinks  the  future  generations." 


IPHIGENIA  AT  TAURIS.  117 

XLVII. 

Thus  they  foretold,  the  daughters  of  high  Jove, 

The  swiftly-stepping  Hours  the  world  foretold 
Soon  to  be  built  anew  for  all  by  love, 

Which  would  make  warm  the  human  heart  now 
cold 

And  overmake  to  youth  the  ages  old. 
The  maiden  heard  the  voice,  it  was  her  lay  — 

She  was  herself  the  story  which  was  told, 
And  she  began  her  task  that  very  day. 

XL  VIII. 
Many  a  Grecian  man  she  did  there  save 

From  wretched  wreck  along  the  rugged  coast, 
When  he  had  strayed  too  far  upon  the  wave  ; 

She  heard  of  sack  of  Troy  by  Argive  host, 

And  wanderings  of  Greeks  by  tempest  tossed  ; 
But  she  was  deeply  filled  with  other  thought: 

Greek  or  Barbarian,  if  he  were  lost, 
In  one  great  deed  of  love  to  save  she  sought. 

XLIX. 

And  then  she  would  transform  him  to  her  life, 

She  lights  herself  into  the  hearts  of  all, 
Whereby  she  puts  an  end  to  mortal  strife 

'Tween  East  and  West  where  stands  the  Trojan 
wall, 

Which  she  will  take,  not  by  the  city's  fall, 
She   will  no  lands  lay  waste,  no  towns  destroy, 

She  gives  both  sides  her  imnge  magical, 
With  it  she  takes,  and  thereby  saves  old  Troy. 


118  AGAMEMNON'S  DAUGHTER. 

L. 

Band  after  band  of  priestesses  she  trained, 

Whom  to  the  deepest  wilderness  she  sent ; 
Of  hardship,  toil,  and  death  they  never  plained, 

They  gave  up  home  and  welcomed  banishment ; 

For  savage  man  and  child  their  lives  were  spent, 
To  whom  they  bore  the  lamp  of  their  great  school ; 

Into  the  frozen,  fiery  zone  they  went, 
And  burst  upon  the  shore  of  farthest  Thule. 

LI. 

They  stood  beside  the  broad  Atlantic  seas, 

Whose  waters    measureless  seemed  their  last 

bound; 
But  soon  to  land  of  far  Hesperides, 

They  crossed   the  wave,  where  a  new  world 
was  found, 

And  they  at  once  began  to  break  the  ground ; 
Through  wilder,  vaster  forests  on  they  went, 

O'er  mighty  rivers,  till  they  made  their  round, 
And  spanned  with  bridge  of  light  a  continent. 

LII. 
These  women  were  the  greatest  conquerors, 

Theirs  too,  the  lasting  victory  has  been, 
Though  it  was  never  gained  in  cruel  wars, 

The  bloody  cutting  sword  was  not  their  mean, 

They  used  a  brighter  weapon  and  more  keen, 
Their  mind  it  was  by  which  this  deed  was  done, 

Girding  the  earth  in  zones  of  mental  sheen, 
To  make  the  wide  world  one  and  keep    it  one. 


IPHIGENIA  AT  TAURIS.  119 

LIII. 

How  all  that  people  loved  her,  called  her  blest ! 

Her  as  a  Goddess  they  would  fain  adore, 
She  ever  called  up  in  them  what  was  best ; 

King  Thoas  was  the  man  who  loved  her  more 

Than  any  other  on  the  Taurian  shore ; 
A  noble  man,  and  a  yet  nobler  king, 

Of  ruler's  virtues  he  possessed  the  store, 
He  sought  like  her  to  be  an  offering. 

LIV. 
The  days  roll  on,  the  mighty  years  roll  on, 

Devotion  in  him  suffers  a  slow  change, 
No  longer  awe  of  her  religi6n 

He  feels,  but  to  a  transformation  strange 

He  falls,  which  doth  his  life  and  hers  derange  ; 
The  king  now  loves  her  with  a  lover's  love, 

Into  his  bride  he  will  the  priestess  change, 
And  from  her  maiden  destiny  will  move. 

LV. 

Still  she  doth  long  for  her  far  native  land, 

To  her  Greek  folk  she  knows  she  must  return, 
They  are  to  be  made  free  by  her  own  hand 

From  Trojan  strifes,  from  Fates  and  Furies 
stern ; 

The  Greek  in  thought  has  slain  her,  and  must 

yearn 
Her  once  again  in  his  own  world  to  see  ; 

All  Hellas  has  through  her  anew  to  learn 
To  be  transformed  as  well  as  Barbary. 


120  AGAMEMNON'S  DAUGHTER. 

LVI. 

Helen  they  have  restored  with  mighty  arm; 

A  deeper  restoration  must  be  won, 
Which  Iphigenia  brings  without  a  harm  ; 

She  teaches  them  to  do  what  she  has  done, 

Her  double  sacrifice  they  must  not  shun, 
The  vengeful  must  to  helpful  heart  be  turned, 

Then  is  Greek  wrong  to  her  for  aye  undone, 
Her  image  is  into  their  bosoms  burned. 

LVII. 

In  royal  suit  she  day  by  day  is  pressed, 
Which  she  must  meet  by  craft,  a  trial  new 

That  bears  the  deepest  discord  in  her  breast ; 
Her  heart  by  double  duty  cut  in  two 
She  feels;  to  Truth  the  first  she  must  be  true, 

Yet  to  her  Mission  true ;  if  she  deceive 
The  King,  it  will  her  very  life  undo, 

Yet  her  last  destiny  she  cannot  leave. 

LVIII. 

Suspicion  darkly  broods  in  high-born  breast, 
The  King  begins  to  change  his  confidence; 

The  burden  of  his  heart  gives  him  no  rest, 
In  every  act  of  hers  he  sees  offense, 
Even  her  good  he  notes  as  insolence  ; 

The  savage,  long  suppressed,  begins  to  burn, 
To  cruel  thoughts  are  changed  his  new  intents, 

To  ancient  Taurian  times  he  will  return. 


IPHIGENIA  AT  TAURIS.  121 

LIX. 

One  day  he  sends  his  trusty  messenger, 

Demanding  answer  to  be  brought  forthright ; 

Again  she  seeks  her  pretext  to  defer, 
And  turns  her  step  to  hasten  out  of  sight 
Into  the  fane,  when  suddenly  in  might 

The  King  appears,  and  wrathful  to  her  speaks ; 
As  if  he  had  a  battle  there  to  fight, 

His  eyes  flash  vengeance  which  the  savage  wreaks : 

LX. 

"  Thy  subtle  Grecian  craft  will  do  no  good, 
Thy  answer  on  the  morrow  I  must  have  ; 

For  thee  I  stopped  the  flow  of  human  blood, 
I  from  the  gory  altar  did  thee  save 
When  savages  did  fiercely  round  thee  rave, 

I  made  thee  greatest  power  in  my  state, 

Thy  power  through  the  world  I  to  thee  gave : 

But  now  I  feel  my  love  turn  into  hate. 

LXI. 

"  The  wild  man's  heart  once  more  begins  to  rise, 

My  deadly  foe  shall  be  again  the  Greek, 
Vengeance  comes  back,  within  I  hear  its  cries 

To  rash  its  claws  into  thy  visage  meek ; 

Thy  labors  to  undo  is  what  I  seek, 
Ingratitude  I  shall  re-pay  to  thee, 

A  maddened  savage  I  revenge  shall  wreak  — 
This  altar's  victim  now  thou  art  to  be." 


122  AGAMEMNON'S  DAUGHTER. 

LXII. 

In  rage  he  turns  away,  she  doth  appeal 

Once  more  unto  the  Goddess  at  her  shrine: 

"  High  Virgin,  thou  who  didst  in  light  reveal 
Thyself  to  me,  and  take  me  to  be  thine, 
Didst  make  thy  very  ministry  be  mine, 

And  promise  me  return  to  my  dear  land, 
Me,  fragile  bearer  of  thy  plan  divine, 

O  help  me  execute  thy  high  command. 

LXIII. 

"  O  Goddess,  let  me  not  from  thee  be  taken, 

The  Fate  of  Trojan  love  now  threatens  me; 
Must  I  from  thee,  Protectress,  turn  forsaken, 

To  Aphrodite  given  o'er,  to  be 

In  foreign  land  held  in  captivity? 
Another  war  of  Troy,  yet  far  more  dread, 

More  stained  with  human  blood  I  can  foresee  ; 
If  I  return  not  home,  I  am  but  dead. 

LXIV. 

"  Thou  Goddess  chaste,  to  thine  own  love  enthrall 
This  noble  man's  still  savage  love,  I  pray, 

Which  seeks  me  for  itself  and  not  for  all, 
Immortal  thou  beam  out  my  mortal  clay, 
That  he  through  passion  rise  to  thy  clear  day. 

Be  not  barbaric  Tauris  doomed  like  Troy, 
Let  not  good  Thoas  cast  his  gain  away, 

And  by  enslaving  me  himself  destroy." 


IPHIGENIA  AT   TAUItlS.  123 

LXV. 

Hark  to  the  whisper  on  the  sunny  air ! 

It  is  again  the  Hours,  the  watchful,  true, 
Who  breathe  an  answer  to  the  maiden's  prayer; 

"  We  shut  and  ope  Olympus  to  the  view; 

We  guard  the  cloudy  gate  the  Gods  pass  through 
When  they  come  down  to  stay  the  faithful  heart; 

Release  will  come,  but  thou  must  also  do  — 
The  Gods  for  thee  are  doing  now  their  part." 

LXVI. 

While  still  she  prayed,  far  out  at  sea  a  ship 
Was   seen  to  struggle  through  the  plunging 
wave ; 

Deep  in  the  watery  chasm  it  would  dip, 

Then  from  the  top  of  highest  surge  it  drave 
Till  scarce  its  keel  the  madding  floods  could 
lave ; 

Again  would  sink  and  almost  disappear, 

Then  rise  and  rear  in  air  from  its  wet  grave, 

While  ever  to  the  land  it  drew  anear. 

LXVI1. 

In  steady  strife  with  that  wild  element 

The  oarsmen  long  had  beat  the  sullen  brine ; 
But  now  they  many  feverish  glances  sent 

To  see  what  on  the  shore  might  give  a  sign  ; 

They  saw  around  them  rise  a  walled  line 
Of  sea-smit  rock  on  which  they  read  their  doubt ; 

Oft  had  they  heard  it  was  a  land  malign, 
Still  pulled  they  on,  and  dared  with  bosoms  stout. 


124  AGAMEMNOWS  DAUQHTEE. 

LXVIII. 

From  far-off  Hellas  they  had  hither  come  ; 

They  took  to  ship  at  Aulis,  in  the  bay 
Where  many  years  agone  a  troubled  hum 

Of  men  would  o'er  the  waters   aimless  stray; 

But  this  ship  northward  cut  its  lonely    way, 
And  passed  Olympus  lofty  on  the  left, 

Where  happy  Gods  dwell  in  eternal  day, 
And  of  the  song  and  feast  are  never  reft. 

LXIX. 

The  slender  ship  threads  narrow  Hellespont, 

Darts  through  the  jaws  of  fierce  Symplegades , 
Where  only  Jove's  swift-flying  dove  is  wont 

To    pass,    when   borne   on   strong  Olympian 
breeze; 

The  ship  broke  into  solitary  seas 
Which  surged  upon  a  distant  unknown  world; 

The  bounded  Euxine  felt  a  strange  release, 
And  with  new  life  its  ancient  billows  whirled. 

LXX. 

Two  Grecian  Youths  were  sitting  on  the  deck ; 

The  one  did  seem  to  toss  the  ship  in  thought, 
His  face  was  graven  with  a  fearful  wreck, 

And  showed  deep  netted  storms-lines    inter- 
wrought 

Into  his  life,  which  the  rough  days  had  brought ; 
The  other  let  no  glance  turn  from  his  mate, 

Affection  overflowed  his  eyes,  yet  fraught 
With  wearied  sorrow,  watching  long  and  late. 


IPnfGENIA  AT  TAURIS.  125 

LXXI. 

One  was  Orestes,  slayer  of  his  mother, 

Whom  Furies  had  at  home  pursued  to  rend ; 

Fond  sympathetic  Pylades  the  other, 
He  was  the  Grecian  Hero,  but  as  friend, 
Whose  heart,  not  guilt  or  glory,  did  him   send 

Along  with  Agamemnon's  wretched  son, 

Until  the  frenzied  mind  mightly  haply  mend, 

Or  of  this  life  the  frantic  trip  be  done. 

LXXII. 

Upon  them  lay  a  stern  divine  command, 
The  Delphic  God  bade  them  the  sister  find, 

And  said  she  was  detained  in  barbarous  land 
At  Tauris,  where  she  kept  her  fervent  mind 
To  be  restored  to  her  own  Grecian  kind. 

Apollo's  sister  Artemis  they  thought, 

To  the  wise  God's  deep  meaning  they  were  blind, 

But  clearest  truth  from  error  dark  is  wrought. 

LXXIII. 

Far  had  they  sailed,  and  still  must  onward  sail ; 

Where  Tauris  was,  they  did  not  fully  know, 
They  kept  by  faith  along  an  unseen  trail, 

Until  the  chilly  blast  "began  to  blow; 

The  sailors  murmured,  would  no  further  go, 
Worn  by  the  seas,  they  ran  into  the  shore  ; 

Although  they  should  be  eaten  by  the  foe, 
They  lay  down  in  the  sand  and  quit  the  oar. 


126  AGAMEMNOWS  DAUGHTER. 

LXXIV. 

Not  far  away  a  spring  flowed  down  a  hill, 
And  peacefully  did  mingle  with  the  wave ; 

It  was  a  soft,  yet  merry  buoyant  rill, 

Which  had  a  speech  as  it  the  stones  would  lave, 
And  e'en  of  music  it  would  sing  a  stave, 

Then  fade  away  into  a  bubbling  noise  ; 
A  word  in  fond  low  tone  it  often  gave, 

Then  in  the  flow  of  waters  lost  its  voice. 

LXXV. 

It  was  of  loving  Nymphs  the  favored  spot, 
Who  the  worn  stranger  with  a  balm  receive, 

And  soon  refresh  him  in  their  shady  grot, 
Or  in  the  brook  their  bosoms  to  him  heave, 
Or  hum  a  strain  to  which  his  soul  will  cleave  ; 

To  follow  up  the  hill  they  lure  their  guest, 
And  with  soft  notes  his  footsteps  interweave, 

Sing  snatches  sweet  when  he  sits  down  to  rest. 

LXXVI. 

Both  youths  went  up  the  brook  to  fields  of  grain, 
A  garden  vast  they  saw  from  the  high  hill, 

The  island  hamlets  flecked  the  sun-gilt  plain, 
In  seas  of  verdure  herds  were  lying  still, 
Or  cropped  lush  grass,  or  stood  within  the  rill; 

The  yellow  grain  waved  into  red-barretf  skies, 
Which  sent  around  the  world  a  tender  trill, 

As  playing  music  of  that  Paradise. 


IPHIGENIA  AT  TAUBIS.  127 

LXXVII. 

Not  far  away  a  noble  temple  stood, 

Which  seemed  the  shining  center  whence  did  ray 
All  of  those  glories  of  sweet  plenitude ; 

They  had  to  follow  but  the  nearest  way 

To  come  to  where  the  sunny  structure  lay ; 
They  entered  it,  the  landscape's  very  heart, 

To  the  divinity  therein  to  pray, 
If  it  might  be  appeased  to  take  their  part. 

LXXVIII. 

And  there  within  uprose  a  sacred  shrine, 

By  it  the  priestess  stood  with  kindly  glance ; 
She  seemed  to  shed  on  all  a  hope  divine, 

Which  would  the  shyest  shrinking  heart  per 
chance 

Embolden  to  its  prayer  to  advance. 
But  hark !  she  speaks  true  tones  of  honeyed  Greek, 

Bids  them  be  now  at  home,  and  gently  grants 
Their  dumb  request  to  tell  what  here  they  seek. 

LXXIX. 

They  answer  liquid  notes,  how  sweet  the  sound ! 

She  heard  again  her  dear  Hellenic  speech; 
Her  home,  her  youthful  days,  her  faith  she  found 

When   she  in  words  heart-born  her  thoughts 
could  reach, 

And  could  without  barbaric  discord  teach 
What  with  her  eye,  what  with  her  soul  she  saw, 

And  in  the  purest  mother  tongue  beseech 
The  Gods,  without  a  stammer  or  a  flaw. 


128  AGAMEMNON'S  DAUGHTER. 

LXXX. 

But  a  still  deeper  music  struck  a  note, 

Which   tuned    the   priestess'    soul    unto    one 

thought : 
"  I  cannot  tell  what  makes  my  fancies  float 

Far  back  to  childish  things  which  once  I  sought . 

What  hidden  spirit  hath  upon  me  wrought, 
That  I  to  this  sad  youth  should  feel  so  near? 

Some  destiny  hath  him  unto  me  brought; 
Him  I  must  ask  about  my  father  dear." 

LXXXI. 

She  spake  to  him  of  Agamemnon  then, 

Foreboding  by  her  soul's  own  magic  spell 
That  this  young  man  knew  of  the  King  of  men, 

And  could  her  father's  latest  story  tell; 

That  same  deep  feeling  did  the  youth  compel, 
That  he  her  heart  within  his  own  caressed  ; 

But  now  her  speech  dropped  on  him  like  a  knell , 
Yet  he  replied  thereto  with  soul  suppressed  : 

LXXXII. 

"  The  mighty  leader  felled  the  town  of  Troy, 
Then  safely  home  into  Mycense  came, 

And  there  his  spouse  conspired  him  to  destroy  ; 
She  said  that  he  at  Aulis  was  to  blame 
That  her  own  daughter  bled  like  beastly  game  ; 

The   wife   her  husband    smote   with  vengeance 

grim, 
She  would  blot  out  in  blood  his  very  name : 

As  he  her  daughter  slew,  so  slew  she  him. 


IPIIIGENIA  AT  TAURIS.  129 

LXXXIII. 
«*  Years  sped  by  but  vengeance  was  not  stayed; 

The  son  Orestes  up  to  manhood  grew, 
On  him  the  Gods  their  heavy  duty  laid, 

The  slayer  of  his  father  next  he  slew, 

The  murderess  who  was  his  mother  too  ; 
Justice  it  was  and  the  divine  command, 

She  did  receive  but  what  was  her  own  due, 
So  Clytemnestra  fell  by  her  son's  hand." 

LXXXIV. 

The  priestess  softened  doomf ul  words  in  tears  : 
"  Oh  curse  of  Hellas,  horror  to  the  light! 

A  land  of  sighs  which  deepen  with  the  years, 
Where  is  revenge's  rule  and  man's  despite, 
The  kindly  human  eye  is  put  out  quite ; 

Nor  yet  is  broke  that  fatal  chain  of  wrongs  ; 
Revenge  begets  revenge — somewhere  in  night 

The  Furies  dog  Orestes  now  in  throngs." 

LXXXV. 

Therewith  the  youth  in  speech  convulsive  shook  : 

*'  See  where  they  come  and  fling  their  snaky  hair 
At  me  ;  with  burning  demon  eyes  they  look 

Into  my  heart  and  what  lies  hidden  there; 

They  slime  the  temple's  threshold —  now  they 

stare  — 
Keep  off,  keep  off,  I  see  the  clotted  stain ; 

I  did  the  deed  and  would  again  it  dare, 
I  slew  her  in  revenge  for  father  slain." 


130  AGAMEMNON* 8  DAUGHTER, 

LXXXVI. 

His  eyes  turned  inward  while  his  body  broke, 
He  coiled  low  down  into  a  speechless  fit ; 

Sad  Pylades  in  tender  heartthrobs  spoke: 
'*  Again  by  his  own  reptile  he  is  bit, 
Not  soon,  I  fear,  the  spell  will  intermit ; 

He  is  Orestes,  same  of  whom  he  told, 
He  tries  to  hide,  but  ne'er  hath  hidden  it, 

His  strong  attempt  doth  but  his  guilt  unfold. 

LXXXVII. 

"  He  often  lapsed  before  in  such  a  swoon, 

When  I  went  with  him  everywhere  as  friend  ; 

His  cure  were  now  for  me  the  greatest  boon, 
Still  I  shall  with  him  go  unto  the  end, 
From  beast  and  man  and  from  himself  defend; 

When  the  wild  fit  comes  on,  he  raves  and  shrieks 
At  the  Erinnyes,  whose  serpents  send 

The  maddening  hiss  which  vengeance  wreaks. 

LXXXVIII. 

"Much  have  we  roamed  the  world  in  search  of 
cure, 

All  Hellas  we  have  seen,  no  help  we  found  ; 
We  sought  afar  the  high-hilled  fountains  pure 

Of    healing   Nymphs   who   babble   from    the 
ground, 

And  Aesculapius  who  mends  each  wound  ; 
All,  all  in  vain ;  till  now  my  hope  was  fair, 

While  he  came  hither  every  hour  was  sound, 
To  him  returns  disease,  to  me  despair." 


IPHIGENIA  AT  TAUBIS.  131 

LXXXIX. 

The  priestess  quick  in  thought  to  him  replied : 
"  Revenge  he  takes,  revenge  him  then  pursues  ; 

That  house  of  Tantalus  which  hath  defied 

The  Gods,  is  his ;  that  house  would  ever  choose 
Its  own  curse  first,  its  blessing  would  refuse, 

In  its  own  ruin  than  all  foes  more  strong; 
No  heir  of  it  forgives  his  bloody  dues, 

And  stops  the  stream  of  wrong  begetting  wrong. 

XC. 

"  From  father  to  the  son  descends  the  curse, 

The  son  gives  it  anew  unto  his  child, 
And  with  each  gory  deed.it  groweth  worse, 

Till  human  hearts  which  Help  should  render 
mild, 

Barbaric  passion  fills  with  rancor  wild. 
The  time  is  come  to  make  the  great  release 

From  vengence  which  hath  all  our  land  defiled  ; 
Orestes'  cure  is  too  the  cure  for  Greece." 

XCI. 
Good  Pylades  in  wonder  stared,  then  said: 

"  The  Grecian  Gods  for  us  are  powerless, 
When  our  worn  footsteps  had  to  Delphi  led, 

Apollo  his  own  weakness  did  confess ; 

The  God  declared  we  must  ourselves  address 
To  one  who  lived  in  barbarous  land,  not  him  ; 

But  what  he  meant  by  that,  we  could  not  guess  ; 
We  asked  again,  he  spake  new  riddles  dim : 


132  AGAMEMNON'S  DAUGHTER. 

XCII. 

"  '  Bring  back  from    Taurian    shore    thy  sister 
dear, 

Whose  image  there  in  starry  sheen  doth  riso 
Along  the  Northern  seas,  where  thou  must  steer  ; 

It  is  a  sacred  image,  from  the  skies 

It  fell  on Tauris  with  blest  auguries; 
That  land  was  then  a  dark  and  savage  land, 

She  let  my  sunshine  in,  now  bright  it  lies, 
And  merciful  will  give  a  helping  hand. 

XCIII. 

**  *  Bring  back  my  sister  thence,  who   did    not 
take 

At  Aulis  once  the  dark  avenging  blood; 
Who  ancient  cruel  rites  of  Goddess  brake, 

When  guiltless  maiden  at  her  altar  stood, 

And  sacrifice  became  the  doing  good; 
Then  will  Orestes  be  forever  healed, 

But  he  by  Furies  must  be  still  pursued, 
Until  to  Hellas  whole  she  be  revealed.'" 

XCIV. 

The  priestess  saw  at  once  the  God's  intent, 
His  double  word  to  her  was  one,  and  clear; 

She  spake  in  tones  of  mild  admonishment: 
"  Blame  not  the  God  before  thou  rightly  hear, 
Thy  mortal  speech  is  not  the  speech  of  Seer 

Or  God,  which  thou  wilt  never  understand 
Until  thou  see  it  double,  far  and  near, 

See  future  and  the  past  knit  in  one  strand. 


IPBIGENIA  AT  TAURIS.  133 

xcv. 

"I  tell  thee  now  what  wise  Apollo  meant, 

When  he  from  inmost  shrine  his  riddles  read: 
I  am  Orestes'  sister,  he  is  sent 

To  bring  me  back  to  those  who  think  me  dead ; 

My  blood  was  not  upon  the  altar  shed, 
By  the  God's  sister  I  was  saved  and  brought 

To  Tauris  here,  amid  Barbarians  dread, 
Whom  fair  Humanity  we  both  have  taught. 

XCVI. 

"  The  sisters  twain  of  whom  the  God  hath  spoken 
Are  we — the  mortal  and  immortal  dwell 

Together  in  a  life  of  deeds  unbroken  ; 
I  am  the  priestess  who  in  word  can  spell 
The  thought  divine  the  Goddess  doth  indwell ; 

'  Tis  I  who  shall  return,  the  image  bear 
Of  her  who  venges  not,  but  will  dispel 

The  hate  which  Furies  nurse  into  despair." 

XCVII. 

Not  yet  was  lost  the  lisp  of  her  last  word, 
Orestes  woke,  and  to  his  feet  arose, 

That  final  healing  speech  of  hers  he  heard 
In  trance,  which  was  the  end  of  all  his  woes, 
To  a  sweet  rest  were  soothed  convulsive  throes : 

The  new  man  from  his  healthy  eyes  now  beams, 
As  he  up  to  the  holy  priestess  goes, 

And  to  her  speaks  fulfillment  of  her  dreams : 


134  AGAMEMNON'S  DAUGHTER. 

XCVIII. 

"  Thou  art  my  long-dead  sister,  now  I  know 
What  I  at  first  but  felt  dim  in  my  heart; 

With  me  thy  lot  it  is  to  Greece  to  go, 

And  there  to  thine  own  land   thyself  impart, 
Draw  from  its  raging  breast  the  venomed  dart, 

For  it  is  truly  mad,  as  I  was  mad, 

With  hot  revenge ;  it  must  be  what  thou  art, 

Be  cured  like  me  of  having  what  I  had. 

XCIX. 

"  I  saw  the  Furies  flee  to  their  dark  cave, 
I  heard  the  clashing  door  behind  them  close, 

Within  the  earth's  stone  bowels  let  them  rave, 
And  smite  her  granite  bosotn  with  their  blows, 
For  I  am  free  forever  of  their  woes; 

Thy  word,  thy  healing  word,  hath  done  it  all, 
Hath  put  to  sudden  flight  my  fiercest  foes, 

And  me  from  frenzy  back  to  life  doth  call. 

C. 

"  Not  stony  idol  set  in  fane,  I  see, 

Can  be  the  image  of  the  Goddess  true, 

She  hath  another  higher  ministry, 

Thou  art  her  holy  image,  brought  to  view 
In  deeds  of  life,  and  every  day  anew  ; 

Thou  dost  her  worthy  form  divine  reveal 
In  freshest  bloom  of  living  human  hue, 

And  poor  mankind  in  helpfulness  dost  heal. 


IPHIGENIA  AT  TAUEI8.  '      135 

CI. 

"  Apollo's  sister  I  shall  with  me  take, 

And  with  the  Goddess  mine  own  sister  too, 

Both  for  my  sake  and  for  my  people's  sake  ; 
As  she  hath  done,  are  they  henceforth  to  do, 
Yea,  she  must   all  men  with  her  deed  endue  ; 

It  is  her  deed  that  us  of  evil  rids, 

The  Fates  shall  fly  from  her  as  Furies  flew, 

She  brings  to  end  the  curse  of  Tantalids." 

GIL 

While  thus  they  talk,  another  raving  man 
With  violence  into  their  presence  breaks  ; 

A  fit  of  madness  shrieks  from  visage  wan, 
Grimaces  fierce  and  gestures   wild  he    makes, 
Each  limb,  each  muscle  in  his  body  shakes; 

Thoas  it  is,  already  mad  with  love  ; 

But  when  he  sees  the  Greeks,  anew  he  quakes 

For  jealousy,  and  frights  the  holy  grove : 

cm. 

"  Woman,  Fury,  thou  art  my  greatest  curse! 

Thou  owest  me  thy  life  and  influence, 
Thy  purpose  newly  planted  I  did  nurse, 

I  saved  thee  from  the  hand  of  insolence, 

I  calmed  to  hope  thy  fleeing,  frightened  sense, 
I  gave  thee  love,  I  gave  this  kingly  heart ; 

Now  I  am  seorned  by  thee,  reap  but  offence, 
And  my  kind  breast  is  pierced  by  thy  fell  dart. 


136  AGAMEMNON'S  DAUGHTER. 

CIV. 

"  Traitress,  ingrate,  incapable  of  love, 
False  to  thy  doctrine,  in  thyself  untrue, 

My  good  thou  dost  requite  with  wrong  above 
What  demons  dare;  I  know  what  I  shall  do, 
For  I  see  other  knavish  Greeks  here  too  — 

Thy  lovers,  come  to  carry  thee  away ; 
On  ancient  Taurian  altar,  all  of  you, 

I  shall  as  pious  debt  long  due,  now  slay." 

CV. 

The  priestess  caught  his  eye  and  touched  his  arm, 
Which,  soon  unnerved,  writhed  slowly  to  his 
side, 

As  if  it  held  itself  from  doing  harm ; 

His  savage  lips  did  quiver,  but  not  chide, 
Her  gentleness  o'erwhelmed  him  in  its  tide : 

"O  Thoas,  friend  —  what  hast   thou  done,  al 
most? 
A  storm  thy  years  of  good  doth  override, 

And  oh,  methought  I  saw  thee  in  it  lost. 

CVI. 
"  Thy  dark  reproach  I  merit  not,  O  King ; 

Far  more  than  all  thee  have  I  loved  and  thine, 
For  thee  I  have  been  here  an  offering, 

My  days  I  have  all  given  at  thy  shrine, 

My  youthful  days  which  will  no  more  be  mine. 
If  not  my  body,  to  thee  rny  soul  I  give, 

That  is  my  dearest  boon,  my  part  divine, 
By  which  I  hope  thou  mayst  forever  live. 


IPHIGENIA  AT  TAURIS.  137 

CVII. 

"  To  my  own  hapless  land  I  am  now  called, 
To  Hellas  which  me  once  did  immolate, 

Whereby  to-day  it  is  to  guilt  enthralled; 
Barbarian  thou  hast  rescued  me  from  fate, 
And  thou  must  rescue  too  the  Grecian  State ; 

If  I  to  thee  have  taught  my  highest  worth, 
Thou  wilt  anew  the  priestess  dedicate, 

Restoring  her  to  country  of  her  birth. 

CVIII. 

"  If  thou  dost  truly  love  and  honor  me, 
Thou  wilt  surrender  me  to  blessedness ; 

If  what  I  am,  in  truth  possesses  thee, 

Thou  wilt  pass  by  thy  right,  thy  sharp  distress, 
And  thine  own  sacrifice  alone  wilt  press  ; 

By  keeping  me  thou  hast  me  not  indeed, 
By  sending  me,  thou  hast  me  none  the  less, 

This  is  to  thee  my  last,  my  highest  meed. 

CIX. 

"  If  I  may  not  my  native  land  restore, 
The  spirit  cries,  I  shall  myself  not  save  ; 

If  thou  detain  me  on  the  Taurian  shore, 
Thy  liberator  me  thou  wilt  enslave, 
And  thou  no  liberty  thyself  wilt  have ; 

It  is  my  time  to  go,  my  time  just  now, 
As  long  as  the  Greek  brother  is  a  slave, 

I  am  not  free  myself  —  not  free  art  thou. 


138  AGAMEMNON' S  DAUGHTER. 

ex. 

"  No  family  is  mine,  another  law 

Hath  claimed  me  with  its  strong  behest ; 

No  babe  with  rosy  lips  will  ever  draw 
Its  life  out  of  the  fountain  of  my  breast, 
Or  lisp  to  me  of  names  the  tenderest ; 

Of  Nature's  loss  I  have  to  bear  the  pain, 
And  rise  upon  it  into  duty  blest; 

Another  motherhood  is  there  again." 

CXI. 

Barbarian  Thoas  drops  the  ruthful  tear, 

He  has  received  her  final  blessing  too, 
In  giving  up  what  is  to  him  most  dear ; 

Yet  he  will  keep  of  her  what  is  the  true, 

His  hasty  deed  in  penitence  undo, 
Whereby  in  him  the  last  dark  savage  strand 

Is  struck  from  Nature,  and  his  spirit  new 
Begs  now  to  bear  her  to  her  own  dear  land. 

CXII. 
And  many  barbarous  peoples  thither  flock 

From  lands  whereof  no  Greek  hath  yet  a  notion, 
From  East  and  West,  from  North  new  earth-born 

stock  ; 

Around  her  now  they  roll  in  grand  commotion, 

Yet  in  her  find  their  soul's  most  sweet  devotion ; 

They   come,   they  come  from  farthest  bleakest 

Thule, 

Where  her  fair  temples  bind  the  edge  of  Ocean, 
E'en  from  Atlantis  where  no  King  hath  rule. 


IPIIIGENIA  AT  TAURI8.  139 

CXIII. 

Europa's  children  seize  the  fleeting  chance, 
To  bring  her  home  and  to  perfect  their  deed ; 

For  they  will  hers  and  their  own  worth  enhance, 
When  they  have  to  the  full  re-paid  her  meed, 
And  in  their  fealty  are  ripe  to  bleed ; 

When  placed  again  upon  her  ancient  seat, 
She  too  hath  won  herself,  is  truly  freed, 

And  they,  completing  her,  themselves  complete. 

CXIV. 
More  ships  at  Tauris  now  are  brought  together 

Than  in  the  olden  time  to  Aulis  came, 
They  had  no  stress  of  winds,  had  no  foul  weather  ; 

A  greater  act,  to  be  of  greater  fame, 

Than   hath  been  yet  bound  up  with  Helen's 

name ; 
And  the  new  Gods  send  gales,  not  to  take  Troy, 

Not  to  avenge  in  hate  a  woman's  shame, 
Their  will  is  to  redeem,  not  to  destroy. 

cxv. 

So  act  these  men  in  noble  gratitude 

To  her  who  gave  to  them  what  was  their  best, 
Who  changed  the  jungled  earth,  the  savage  rude, 

Into  a  land  and  people  that  were  blest, 

Obeying  human  law  and  God's  behest ; 
But  now  the  last  and  greatest  deed  is  done, 

Return  to  Hellas  is  the  final  test 
Whereby  Greek  and  Barbarian  are  one. 


140  AGAMEMNON'S  DAUGHTER. 

CXVI. 

Orestes,  the  mad  Greek,  his  cure  has  found, 

The  vengeful  Furies  him  no  more  pursue; 
Thoas,  the  wild  Barbarian,  is  now  sound, 

His  jealous  wrath  is  chastened  into  rue  ; 

Both  men  are  healed,  begin  their  life  anew, 
Their  hateful  limit  they  will  both  erase, 

Both  feel  their  oneness,  have  one  thing  to  do, 
Both  sink  down  at  her  feet,  and  there  embrace. 

CXVII. 

"  Up,  up!"  a  voice  runs  through  the  darkening 

air, 

It  is  again  the  Hours,  the  watchful,  true  ; 
"  Up,  up  !"  they  sing  with  troubled  note  of  care, 
"  We  shut  and  ope  Olympus  to  the  view, 
We    guard  the   cloudy  gate    the   Gods    pass 

through, 
Now   man   they   leave,   the    Fates    and    Furies 

throng ; 

Up,  up  !  there  is  the  final  deed  to  do  ; 
They  come  !  hark  to  the  dread  demonic  song." 


Canto  Fourth. 


at 


Return  and  Restoration. 


(141) 


ARGUMENT. 

The  scene  changes  from  Tauris  back  to  Greece,  to  a 
place  which  may  be  called  the  Hellenic  heart,  namely, 
Delphi.  First  is  heard  the  chorus  of  the  Fates  and 
Furies,  the  dark  Poiuers  of  which  Hellas  is  to  be  freed 
by  the  return  of  Iphigenia,  who  in  the  present  Canto 
appears  in  two  relations:  first,  alone  and  unrecognized; 
secondly,  recognized  and  installed  in  her  great  vocation. 

I.  Upon  the  dark  background  of  Fates  and  Furies 
there  takes  place  a  bright  Greek  festival,  which  brings 
together  all  the  famous  men  who  have  returned  from 
Troy,  Nestor,  Menelaus,  Ulysses;  the  latter  coming  with 
Penelope.  All  celebrate  their  return  from  war  and 
wandering. 

In  the  midst  of  the  festivity  Iphigenia  appears,  alone 
and  unknown  to  everybody.  She  catches  the  spirit  of 
the  time,  and  clearly  sees  what  she  is  to  do  in  her  own 
land.  She  hears  her  old  bard  who  once  sang  in  Mycence 
(See  First  Canto).  He  sings  the  story  of  Achilles,  the 
hero  wrathful  and  reconciled,  then  he  sings  the  fate  of 
Agamemnon,  and  the  woes  of  the  House  of  Tantalus, 
to  which  she  belongs.  At  last  he  sings  her  oivn  tale  of 
sacrifice,  and  litters  the  prophecy  of  her  return.  Iphige 
nia  for  a  moment  sinks  in  despair  at  the  account  of  her 
bloody  kinship,  but  soon  rises  up  with  new  resolution. 

Helen,  too,  comes  to  the  Delphic  festival,  having  been 
restored  from  Troy.      Her  great  change  is   described. 
(142) 


A  short  account  of  her  Trojan  experience  is  given,  and 
her  internal  struggles  while  in  that  city  are  indicated. 
She  masters  Aphrodite  ere  Troy  can  fall,  and  the  God 
dess  herself  changes  with  Helen.  TJie  bard  comes  for 
ward  and  sings  his  second  song  in  praise  of  Helen, 
tvhich  is  in  strong  contrast  with  his  former  song.  (First 
Canto.)  He  expresses  his  fervid  desire  for  the 
one  who  has  not  yet  returned,  and  Helen  also  feels  deep 
longing  for  Iphigenia,  when  behold!  she  appears. 
(I—LXXXIL) 

II.  Recognition  between  the  two  women,  the  most  dif 
ferent  in  character^  yet  belonging  together.  The  people 
turn  atvayfrom  Helen  to  Iphigenia,  and  choose  her  for 
priestess  of  the  new  Apollo,  who,  though  a  God,  has  also 
been  transformed  from  a  Trojan  divinity  to  a  Hellenic 
one.  With  him  the  old  Greek  world  is  transformed 
into  its  true  life  and  works.  But  scarce  has  this  begun, 
when  TJioas,  the  Taurian  King,  appears  and  tells  what 
Iphigenia  has  done  for  Barbary.  Through  her  deed  too 
the  Fates,  who  have  always  lowered  over  Greece,  have 
been  put  to  flight.  After  him  Orestes,  free  of  his 
madness,  steps  forth,  and  tells  the  story  of  his 
cure,  whereby  the  Furies  no  longer  pursue  him.  At  the 
end  of  his  declaration,  the  last  song  of  the  Fates  and 
Furies  is  heard,  vanishing  from  Delphi  into  the  dis 
tance.  Following  it,  is  the  new  song  of  the  Muses,  which 
touches  the  final  highest  deed  of  Agamemnon's  Daughter. 


(143) 


I. 

**  Around,  around  we  circle  hand  in  hand, 

We  rule  this  Lower  World,  the  Gods  we  rule, 

We  tie  up  Time  itself  within  our  band, 
The  human  Will  is  but  our  tiny  tool, 
The  man  who  fights  against  us  is  the  fool, 

In  iron  rim  of  fierce  barbaric  powers 

This  little  Greece  we  bind  and  press  and  pull ; 

The  man,  the  land,  the  God,  e'en  Zeus  are  ours." 

II. 

So  sang    the   Fates,   while  they  kept  wheeling 
round 

In  ever-closing  curves  the  Delphic  fane, 
In  wrath  they  beat  the  air,  they  smote  the  ground, 

Then  tightly  shut  their  triple  grip  again 

To  rhythm  of  a  wild  tyrannic  strain. 
Blent  in  their  song  were  heard  the  Furies  too, 

Who  screamed  afar  in  vengeful  sharp  refrain 
What  they  had  done,  and  what  they  still  would  do : 
10  (145) 


146  AGAMEMNON'S  DAUGHTER. 

III. 

"  Around  we  whirl  in  rage  and  strike  and  squirm, 
We  gnash  our  fangs  and  scorn  the  note  of  bliss ; 

We  drop  to  earth  and  coil  up  like  a  worm, 
We  crawl  to  that  side  now,  and  now  to  this, 
Our  laugh  is  but  a  scoff,  our  speech  a  hiss, 

We  sway  the  man  below,  the  Gods  above 
Cannot  the  Furies  from  their  rule  dismiss ; 

Our  joy  is  pain  and  hate  is  what  we  love." 

IV. 

So  sang  the  Furies,  of  themselves  they  sang, 
Around  they  whirled  in  rage  and  smote   the 
ground, 

They  dropped  into  the  dust  and  coiled  and  sprang, 
With  snaky  head  upreared  for  sudden  bound, 
Each  serpent  hair  sent  forth  a  hissing  sound. 

They    mingled    with    the    Fates  —  a    dreadful 

throng; 
The  fixed  Fates  and  frantic  Furies  found 

A  common  hate  and  sang  it  in  a  song : 

V. 

"  We  too  now  with  the  Greeks  to  Delphi  go, 
We  triple  Fates  and  Furies  have  control, 

Together  we  one  life  in  twain  bestow, 

The  outer  world  of  man  is  ours,  the  whole, 
His  inner  world  is  ours,  the  very  soul 

Within  the  state  of  Greece,  within  the  Greek ; 
We  Fates  the  guilty  deed  on  man  shall  roll, 

We  Furies  then  revenge  on  him  shall  wreak." 


IPHIGENIA  AT  DELPHI.  147 

VI. 

The  strain  arose  from  Delphic  lands  high-hilled, 
And  flowed  adown  the  slopes  unto  the  dale, 

The  vineyards  and  the  olive  groves  it  filled, 
Where  men  and  women  echoed  all  the  tale 
In  far-heard  notes  that  swung  from  height  to 
vale, 

They  sang  it  at  their  work  and  at  their  feast, 
They  hymned  it  to  the  beat  of  threshing  flail, 

And  felt  its  awe  from  highest  to  the  least. 

VII. 

From  the  Parnassian  tops,  where  Muses  played, 
Was  floating  over  land  and  sea  the  lay 

Of  Fates  and  Furies  to  a  world  dismayed ; 
It  bubbled  out  of  Castaly's  bright  play, 
And  dimmed  her  lucent  rill  on  all  its  way  ; 

The  Oracle  could  speak  no  other  word 
Unto  the  multitude  who  came  to  pray, 

And  all  their  hearts  were  with  it  deeply  stirred. 

VIII. 
O  rocky  Pytho,  the  one  soul  thou  art 

Of  this  wide  Grecian  land  and  of  the  time  ; 
Thou  sendest  thine  own  breath  to  every  part, 

To  touch  the  hidden  chords  of  this  fair  clime, 

Whose  thrill  sets  all  the  earth  to  thy  deep  chime ; 
From  out  thy  mountain  breast  deep-cleft  in  twain, 

Speaks  prophecy  with  freshest  voice  of  prime, 
And  farthest  Hellas  hears  the  sacred  strain. 


148  AGAMEMNOWS  DAUGHTER. 

IX. 

Yet  many  years  had  Delphi  lain  untrod 
By  heroes  who  were  in  the  Trojan  war ; 

But  now  to  land  and  family  and  God 

They  had  returned  in  spite  of  adverse  star, 
And  leaped  the  human  and  celestial  bar  ; 

Again  they  gathered  at  the  Delphic  call, 

Which  they  had  heard  resounding  near  and  far, 

To  come  and  hold  a  mighty  festival. 

X. 

Those  Grecian  men  were  fain  their  grand  return 
In  that  most  sacred  town  to  celebrate ; 

They  had  no  more  in  foreign  land  to  yearn 
For  wife  and  home,  or  haply  to  await 
On  bloody  bridge  of  war  the  blow  of  fate ; 

A  day  of  joy,  yet  not  without  a  tear, 

For  each  had  lost  what  Time  could  never  mate  ; 

Again  heroic  shapes  from  Troy  drew  near. 

XI. 

The  first  was  Nestor,  aged  man  and  wise, 

Whose  snowy  beard  would  brush  the  Delphic 
shrine, 

As  he  unto  the  God  gave  sacrifice  ; 

In  burning  Troy  he  saw  the  strifeful  sign, 
And  homeward  fled  at  once  across  the  brine  ; 

That  city's  fall  was  for  his  glance  the  end, 
He  would  not  further  probe  the  ways  divine, 

The  will  of  Gods  he  sought  not  to  transcend. 


IPBIGENIA  AT  DELPHI.  149 

XII. 

Next  Spartan  Menelaus  thither  came, 

Who   wandered  long,  yet  reached  at  last  his 
home, 

With  Helen  still  his  wife,  but  all  men's  fame; 
Far,  far  into  the  East  he  had  to  roam, 
And  cut  a  path  unknown  through  salty  foam ; 

When  he  the  wiles  of  Proteus  had  outdone, 
And    through  old   Egypt's    mystic  land  had 
come, 

He  caught  beneath  all  changing  forms  the  One. 

XIII. 

Ulysses,  too,  at  Delphi  now  appears, 

Though  his  return  was  greatest  of  them  all, 

He  fought  and  wandered  homeward  twenty  years, 
He  saw  strange  lauds  and  beings  magical, 
With  giants  strove,  who  sought  him  to  enthrall, 

He  passed  the  Under  world  of  ghostly  forms, 
Where  all  the  shades  gave  answer  to  his  call, 

Then  back  to  home  on  earth  outrode  the  storms. 

XIV. 
He  was  the  man  who  pried  below,  above ; 

The  dear  Unknown  he  made  his  daily  guest, 
With  the  Impossible  he  was  in  love, 

Beyond  the  ken  of  men  he  took  his  test; 

With  bold  emprise  he  plunged  into  the  West, 
Whose  far  domains  he  first  of  mortals  trod, 

Yet  on  the  bound  of  worlds  he  could  not  rest, 
He  sought  to  burst  the  limit  of  the  God. 


150  AGAMEMNOWS  DAUGHTER. 

XV. 

O  Chian  voice,  could  I  to  mine  but  tell 

As  thou  to  thine  his  wondrous  tale  hast  told, 
Again  would  flow  the  deep  Pierian  well 

In  which  are  seen  the  ages  to  unfold ; 

All  Time  would  move  as  I  my  leaves  unrolled, 
And  out  my  lines  would  step  the  man  to-day, 

Who  to  my  music  would  the  world  uphold  : 
But  stop  —  mine  is  another  tale  —  away. 

XVI. 

With  him  his  wife  had  come,  Penelope, 

Hers  was  the  steadfast  heart,  most  loyal,  true  ; 

Yet  prudence  joined  she  to  fidelity, 

She  kept  her  husband's  home  and  country  too^ 
Whereby  he  ever  could  return  anew ; 

Well  she  deserved  with  him  the  equal  part 
Of  honor  now  to  the  most  honored  due  — 

The  wisest  head  had  paired  the  truest  heart. 

XVII. 

So  gathered  round  the  fane  the  heroes  great, 
Now  old  and  full  of  silent  suffering, 

To  hear  the  past,  their  deeds  to  celebrate, 
Some  little  joy  into  their  lives  to  bring, 
And  dull  awhile  the  point  of  sorrow's  sting; 

Their  days  were  full  of  deep-remembered  pain, 
Though  they  had  taken  Troy  and  slain  its  king, 

And  had  returned  to  land  and  home  again. 


IPHIGENIA  AT  DELPHI.  151 

XVIII. 

And  e'en  the  Dolphic  God  was  one  of  those 
Who  out  the  East  to  Hellas  had  returned  ; 

Apollo  smote  in  Troy  the  Greeks  as  foes, 

The  God  had  not  the  trend  of  Time  discerned, 
Yet  through  his  error  he  his  wisdom  learned, 

He,  though  a  God,  transformed  his  vast  mistake, 
Whereby  he  had  a  new  devotion  earned ; 

Him,  wisest  God,  the  Greeks  will  not  forsake. 

XIX. 

Fair  maidens  soon  attuned  the  merry  song, 
And  interwove  sweet  sounds  into  the  dance, 

While  in  their  steps  the  Graces  tripped  along, 
At  whose  dear  shapes  the  eye  falls  in  a  trance, 
And  to  a  music  seen  is  blent  each  glance  ; 

A  stream  of  mounted  youths  then  overfills 

The  rolling  slopes  which  seem  with  steeds  to 
prance ; 

Far  the  procession  tosses  mid  the  hills. 

XX. 

Soft  flutes  and  frantic  timbrels  mingle  joy, 
And  fling  on  breathing  air  life's  anodyne  ; 

Where  now  have  vanished  all  the  ills  of  Troy  ? 
Ah,  woe  the  word!  what  darker,  deeper  line 
That  in  the  joyful  strain  doth  intertwine  ! 

Of  Fates  and  Furies  still  breaks  out  the  hymn, 
To  jar  the  song  around  the  fane  divine, 

While  o'er  the  Graces  hover  goblins  grim  : 


152  AGAMEMNON1  S  DAUGHTER. 

XXI. 

"  Forget  us  not,  we  too  are  in  the  song, 

Within  each  Grecian  voice  and  soul  we  dwell 

We  circle  round  about  each  Grecian  throng, 
Upon  this  merry  world  we  cast  our  spell, 
And  Time  the  echo  is  of  what  we  tell.  — 

Hist,  Hist!  A  foe  we  scent  on  Delphic  air, 
Low-sounding  up  the  vale  we  hear  a  knell, 

A  stranger  draweth  near,  beware,  beware." 

XXII. 

The  joyous  festival  had  well  begun, 

When  lo !  a  woman  moves  around  the  hill, 

And  enters  Delphi  in  the  morning  sun; 
She  walks  up  to  the  clear  Castalian  rill, 
And  drinks  of  it  and  hears  its  sweetest  trill ; 

She  turns  to  pass  into  the  town  above  ; 

But  first  in  a  deep  glance  she  standeth  still, 

Then  slowly  moves  into  the  sacred  grove. 

XXIII. 

Who  is  the  lady  of  the  look  unknown? 

Iphigenia  —  she  without  delay 
From  port  of  Aulis  had  set  out  alone, 

Where  she  had  landed  only  yesterday, 

And  where  again  a  thousand  vessels  lay, 
Tall  ships  of  Barbary,  which  there  did  bring 

Her  with  Orestes  o'er  the  watery  way; 
The  leader  Thoas  was,  the  Taurian  King. 


IPHIQENIA  AT  DELPHI.  153 

XXIV. 

Her  name  none  knew,  orliow  she  came,  or  when; 

Nor  made  she  haste  her  lineage  to  say, 
She  flitted  through  the  surging  crowds  of  men, 

From  every  side  she  heard  the  bodeful  lay 

Of  Fates  and  Furies  pierce  the  holiday ; 
In  every  deed  entwined  their  lurid  song, 

Which  shot  dark  threads  through  colors  bright 

and   gay, 
Yet  had  their  counterpart  in  all  the  throng. 

XXV. 

Her  sorrow  rose  when  she  that  song  had  heard 
Tinge  with  its  discord  all  the  Delphic  dale, 

Nor  could  she  to  herself  suppress  the  word  : 

"  I  see  at  home  these  monsters  still  prevail 
Which  once  I  saw  far  Barbary  assail ; 

But  there  they  are  put  down  and  sway  no  more ; 
My  Hellas  hath  beneath  its  joy  a  wail, 

It  is  not  what  it  seemed  to  me  before. 

XXVI. 

"  I  hear  but  of  the  vengeful  sack  of  Troy, 

The  many  men  and  women  slaved  or  slain; 
The  spirit  everywhere  is  to  destroy, 

Such  deeds,  I  know,  leave  tinct  in  man  their 
grain, 

WThat  he  hath  done,  comes  back  to  him  again, 
The  city  burnt  a  wraith  of  vengeance  hath 

Which  the  mad  victor's  heart  will  rend  amain 
And  him  will  smite  in  turn  with  his   own  wrath. 


154  AGAMEMNON'S  DAUGHTER. 

XXVII. 
X  "  I  see  that  in  my  land  I  have  again  to  do 

What  I  at  Tauris  with  the  years  have  done, 
To  give  my  spirit's  offering  anew, 

Change  vengeful  father  to  the  gentle  son  ; 
Another  Troy  muet  on  this  soil  be  won, 
Not  by  fierce  arms  or  furious  conflagration, 

All  Troy,  the  East  and  West,must  be  made  one 
In  helpful  deed  with  the  Hellenic  nation." 

XXVIII. 

So  moved  the  woman  lone  among  the  Greeks, 
By  men  unrecognized  in  her  own  land ; 

To  learn  the  story  of  the  time  she  seeks, 
From  all  she  hears  of  Agamemnon's  band, 
The  mighty  deed  done  on  the  Trojan  strand, 

The  valor  bursting  red  in  streams  of  blood  ; 
She  feels  the  war-beat  to  a  fever  fanned, 

As  round  each  singer  men  admiring  stood. 

XXIX. 

But  soon  she  caught  the  fragment  of  a  strain 

That  waved  the  air  more  mellow  than  the  rest, 
And  as  she  neared  the  spot,  it  swelled  again, 

And  sounded,  as  it  sweetly  rose,  more  blest; 

She  stood  and  looked  from  a  small  hilly  crest, 
Above  the  shoulders  of  the  listening  crowd  ; 

She  saw  an   ancient  bard,   from  whose   deep 

breast 
The  tender  notes  were  welling  clear  and  loud. 


IPHIGENIA  AT  DELPHI.  155 

XXX. 

It  was  the  bard  who  in  Mycenae  sang 

Long  since  when  she  was  but  a  little  maid ; 
His  deep  bass-voice  had  now  a  melting  pang, 

Round  his  great  thoughts  the  nimble  fancies 
played, 

As  his  white  beard  on  toying  breezes  strayed  ; 
His  winged  words  agleam  would  flit  the  air, 

Like  long  thin   cloudlets  through  the  welkin 

frayed, 
Was  twirled  in  passing  wind  his  blanched  hair. 

XXXI. 

Thus  looked  and  sang  that  bard  Meonides, 

Who  hymned  so  well  the  famous  Trojan  woe , 
Who  knew  fatality  in  all  degrees, 

As  it  was  stamped  on  men  long,  long  ago  ; 

Like  him,  this  singer  too  had  felt  the  blow 
Of  deep-dispensing  Gods,  for  he  was  blind; 

Yet  deeper,  purer  was  the  inner  flow, 
As  he  the  world  more  clearly  saw  in  mind. 

XXXII. 

She  glided  through  the  crowd  and  heard  the  song  ; 

It  sang  the  wrath  which  stirred  Achilles  dread, 
When  he  rose  up  against  a  Grecian  wrong 

Done  by  the  King  who  was  the  Army's  head, 

That  wrongful  King,  it  was  her  father  dead  ; 
The  Ruler  and  the  Hero  caused  the  strife, 

Whereby  not  they,  but  their  true  people  bled. 
And  many  a  gallant  chieftain  lost  his  life. 


156  AGAMEMNON'S  DAUGHTER. 

XXXIII. 
Ah,  fateful,  furious  was  that  song  of  wrath, 

The  words  of  blood  poured  out  the  deeds  of 

blood! 
But  a  far  deeper  note  the  singer  hath, 

Which  sang  Achilles  imaging  the  good, 

Forgiving  to  his  foes  in  tender  mood ; 
The  Hero  true  she  saw  in  him  arise, 

Not  by  the  cruel  deed ,  but  brotherhood ; 
It  was  the  image  of  her  sacrifice. 

XXXIV. 

Great  was  her  joy,  when  in  her  low  disguise 
She  heard  her  act  wind  through  the  Hero's  lot, 

How  he  to  vision  of  her  life  did  rise, 

Though  oftentimes  she  was  by  him  forgot, 
And  he  in  mad  revenge  would  slay  and  plot; 

Still  he  would  soon  bethink  himself  again, 
The  Leader  he  forgave,  and  then  would  not 

Slay  Priam  old  for  dear  Patroclus  slain. 

XXXV. 

The  singer  struck  a  newer,  sadder  strain, 

The  piteous  tale  of  Agamemnon's  fate, 
How  he  at  home  by  his  own  wife  was  slain, 

How  she  her  hearth  with  lust  did  desecrate ; 

The  story  on  the  daughter's  heart-strings  ate, 
Of  her  own  mother  and  her  father  sung 

To  all  assembled  Greeks,  both  small  and  great ; 
Her  lips  turned  pale  and  down  her  head  she  hung : 


IPHIGENIA  AT  DEPLHI.  157 

XXXVI. 

"Ye  Gods !  the  mighty  Leader  of  the  Greeks 
Is  butchered  like  an  ox  within  its  stall ! 

Return  to  home  he  hath  not,  which  he  seeks ; 
Instead  of  it  he  hears  death's  sudden  call 
Just  as  he  steps  into  his  palace  hall ; 

Return  is  not  for  him  from  Trojan  strife, 
Revenge,  not  Love,  sits  on  Mycenae's  wall, 

With  broken  vows  that  lap  the  blood  of  life. 

XXXVII. 

"  O  mother,  mother,  what  a  great  mistake 

For  thee  and  me  thy  vengeful  lesson  was ; 
Thou  boldly  slowest  husband  for  my  sake, 

And  yet  I  was  not  dead,  thou  hadst  no  cause 

To  overturn  the  deity's  last  laws  ; 
Thus  err  we,  when  we  take  into  our  hands 

The  justice  which  the  Gods  without  our  flaws, 
In  foresight  far,  dispense  to  men  and  lands." 

XXXVIII. 

More  deeply  still  sobbed  Agamemnon's  daughter : 

"  Then  such  am  I,  and  of  such  parents  born, 
Of  parents'  parents  slain  in  kindred  slaughter ! 

Methinks  till  now  I  never  felt  forlorn; 

Oh  might  I  never  see  to-morrow  morn  ! 
Can  I  now  change  ancestral  bloody  strands, 

Release  from  Furies'  fang  the  bosom  torn, 
Oh  can  I  whiten  still  these  gory  hands  I  " 


158  AGAMEMNON'S  DAUGHTER. 

XXXIX. 

The  bard  began  a  milder  lay  to  sing, 

Which  soothed  with  tender  notes   her  hapless 
pain, 

It  was  the  lay  of  her  own  offering 

At  Aulis  by  the  sea,  where  she  was  slain, 
Yet  saved,  that  she  might  do  her  deed  again  ; 

Lost  Helen's  restoration  there  she  earned, 
And  freedom  gave  to  clear  the  guilty  stain; 

By  her  deed,  too,  the  Greek  has  now  returned. 

XL. 

The  song's  deep  solace  bore  her  in  its  flood, 
She  felt  that  she  had  stemmed  her  house's  guilt, 

And  stanched  the  ever-flowing  stream  of  blood, 
Which,  in  the  time  of  old  Thyestes  spilt, 
Had  stained  each  kindred  sword  from  point  to 
hilt; 

But  yet  more  deeply  ran  the  tuneful  word : 
A  new  Greek  world,  by  her  to  be  now  built, 

Had  to  prophetic  strain  the  poet  stirred : 

XLI. 
"  I  yet  shall  touch  her  with  this  aged  hand, 

For  I  have  heard  in  truth  she  is  not  dead, 
But  is  still  living  in  a  far-off  land, 

That  she  on  Dian's  altar  never  bled, 

But  by  the  Goddess  she  away  was  led, 
Until  the  strifef ul  Trojan  time  be  past, 

And  Helen  be  to  home  returned  who  fled ; 
Then  will  she  too  return  to  Greece,  the  last. 


IPHIQENIA  AT  DELPHI.  159 

XLII. 

"  This  last  return  will  be  the  greatest,  best; 

To  end  of  Time  she  will  in  Hellas  stay  ; 
I  have  deep  faith  it  is  the  God's  behest, 

That  she  no  longer  shall  remain  away, 

Who  gave  herself  for  all  upon  that  day ; 
And  some  great  blessing  she  will  with  her  bring, 

When  to  Apollo's  fane  she  comes  to  pray, 
And  bears  anew  to  us  her  offering. 

XLIII. 

"  She  cannot  long  be  absent  from  us  still, 
I  feel  the  very  point  of  time  draw  near 

When  she,  in  coming  home,  will  all  fulfill, 
And  in  this  Delphic  seat  she  will  appear, 
Led  by  the  love  of  her  own  people  dear; 

All  have  returned  but  her,  e'en  the  lost  wife, 
Methinks  that  she  already  must  be  here, 

This  day,  this  spot  is  telling  of  her  life." 

XLIV. 

She  listened  to  her  piteous  fate,  but  kept 

Within  distressful  heart  the  bursting  sigh ; 
Yet  inwardly  at  her  own  tale  she  wept, 

A  lonely  tear  would  wander  to  her  eye, 

The  silent  herald  of  her  sympathy. 
She  seemed  to  think  it  was  another's  lot, 

When  she  beheld  the  maid  at  Aulis  die ; 
That  she  the  sufferer  was,  she  quite  forgot. 


ICO  AGAMXXSOrS  DAUGBTOL 


XLV. 

!  O  thou  image  truest 

in  its  long  painful 
Only  to  be  t*  •fin  HIII  Mlii  thou  knewest, 

Thorn  didst  not  know  it  was  thine  own  distress 
That  touched  thy  soul  of  self-forgetful  ness; 
On  thee  comes  back  thy  pity's  orerflow, 

Which  always  through  another  most  thee  bless, 
Ben  thsi  thou  art  not  dead  thon  scarce  dost  know. 

XLVL 
Yet  one  feed  mystery  she  could  not  break. 

She  saw  that  she  a  guilt  untold  had  brought 
On  one  who  was  mistaken  for  her  sake; 

Her  death  to  quit,    the    darkest  crime   was 

wrought; 

Tliil  i  IJBMI  •  in  iliBssUrt  fm  sfMSSiiissi  lhii«j&lil , 

For  her  she  saw  a  father  slain,  a  mother  stained, 

Fate  •••Ffl  si  last  to   hare  her  fife-thread 


In Toieefass  woe  unto  herself  she  plained: 

XLVIL 
"  Of  being's  source  to  be  the  eaemj, 

The  fateful  child  to  be,  though  innocent, 
Through  whom  both  parents  guilty  are  and  die 

It  wraps  the  Gods  in  deep  bewilderment. 

O  why  hare  I  been  darkly  hither  sent? 
It  is  the  Fates  who  tern  on  me  their  power : 

To  their  decree  I  shaH  at  last  be  bent, 
They  come  and  I  most  yield  —  it  is  their  hour. 


tPHIGESIA  AT  DELPHI.  161 

XLvni. 

"  I  too  must  be  a  link  of  that  long  chain 

Which  hangs  from  Tantalus,  and  ever  wfll; 
To  slay  mine  own  and  by  them  to  be  slain, 

Is  the  last  law  which  I  moat  too  fulfill. 

— No,  no ;   'tis  madness;  I  shall  conquer  stfll, 
Transform  my  birth  into  a  source  of  good, 

I  destiny  shall  whelm  into  my  wfll, 
And  guilt  of  Tantalids  cleanse  from  my  blood." 

XLEX. 
Bet  hark !  a  fiendish  laughter  scoffs  the  air 

Yet  mingled  with  a  wild  demoniac  pain ; 
Just  as  the  words  drop  from  the  woman  there 

The  Fates  and  Furies  howl  and  \um  again: 

"  Forget  us  not,  we  sing  the  Delphic  strain ; 
See !  another  woman  comes  with  demons'  powers ! 

Here  still  our  ancient   realm  we  shall  main 
tain, 
The  fane,  the  God,  the  woman  too  is  oars." 

L. 
Meanwhile  the  crowd  rushed  to  the  wall  to  gave 

Far  down  the  slope,  beyond  the  Delphic  dale, 
Till  where  the  blue  Corinthian  waters  raise 

On  gentle  throbbing  waves  the  amMing  sail. 

Or  heave  on  high  the  reeling  bark  more  frail; 
The  silvery  sparkle  flashes  into  view, 

Or  traces  out  a  momentary  trail, 
Then  vanishes  into  the  billows  blue. 

11 


162  AGAMEMNON'S  DAUGHTER. 

LI. 
Above  those  azure  pulses  of  the  deep, 

Uprearing  from  the  valley  rose  a  train, 
It  slowly  curled  about  the  mountain  steep 

Through  pointed  rocks  athwart  its    pathway 
lain, 

At  times  it  seemed  to  grapple  might  and  main, 
As  if  in  mortal  wrestle  with  the  way, 

Which  showed  a  fierce  resistance,  but  in  vain; 
The  line  kept  creeping  up,  and  made  no  stay. 

LII. 

When  it  had  reached  at  last  the  Delphic  gate, 
It  seemed  to  turn  upon  itself  and  think, 

As  if  it  for  a  time  did  hesitate, 

Standing  alone  with  doubt  on  some  deep  brink, 
Which  for  a  moment  made  the  courage  sink ; 

It  would  not  enter  in  the  sacred  wall, 

Smit  by  some  sudden  scruple  it  did  shrink, 

Or  fear  again  a  hidden  guilt  or  fall. 

LIII. 
But  yielding  soon  it  came  into  the  town, 

For  many  voices  shouted  strong  request, 
It  marched  in  still  procession  up  and  down, 

All  flocked  to  see  who  was  the  newest  guest, 

They  marked  one  shape  far  more  than  all  the 

rest, 
The  dame  with  penitential,  downcast  eye, 

Which  told  the  sorrowing  tale  of  years  unblest ; 
She  never  once  looked  up  as  she  passed  by. 


IPHIGENIA  AT  DELPHI.  163 

LIV. 
Helen  it  was,  who  had  from  Troy  returned, 

Once  more  in  her  old  Spartan  home  she  dwelt, 
The  deepest  lesson  of  the  world  had  learned, 

The  sharpest  pang  of  human  life  had  felt, 

The  fiercest  blow  to  her  own  land  had  dealt, 
And  to  her  spouse,  though  he  had  all  forgiven  ; 

She  came  to  the  shrine  of  Artemis  and  knelt 
And  looked  up  in  her  face,  with  rue  heart-riven. 

LV. 

The  heroes  then  could  not  restrain  the  tear 

At  such  great  beauty  to  such  sorrow  bound; 
They  wept  for  her,  their  image  still  most  dear, 

And  for  themselves,  who   such  distress    had 
found, 

And  left  so  many  friends  cold  in  Troy's  ground  ; 
Fell  Memory  shot  deep  into  the  heart 

The   look  of  brothers  slain,    or   starved,    or 

drowned, 
And  in  themselves  they  felt  the  deathly  dart. 

LVI. 

The  mighty  multitude  of  people  wept, 

It  would  have  broken  up  the  festival, 
If  fairest  Helen  had  not  forward  stepped, 

And  gave  her  drug  which  men  Nepenthe  call; 

At  once  it  soothed  the  sorrows  of  them  all, 
At  her  sweet  look  they  soon  forgot  their  pain, 

In  her  they  saw  the  rise  out  of  the  fall, 
Great  was  the  loss,  but  greater  still  the  gain. 


164  AGAMEMNOWS  DAUGHTER. 

LVII. 
The  tender  lines  of  hidden  suffering 

Wove  all  their  saddest  story  through  her  face, 
But  round  them  other  lines  did  gently  cling, 
Which  would  the  sharp,  remorseful   thought 

erase. 

And  softly  write  forgiveness  there  and  grace ; 
So  could  she  quench  the  very  grief  she  made, 
Though  trouble  gone  would  leave  for  proof  its 

trace ; 
The  guilt  had  fled,  but  still  had  left  its  shade. 

LVHI. 

Out  of  her  life  there  shone  calm  penitence, 
With  steadfast  will  her  deed  yet  to  atone  j 

Though  never  more  she  could  have  innocence, 
She  still  had  something  won  for  what  was  gone 
That  to  remorse  she  was  not  left  alone ; 

She  had  for  error  won  the  compensation, 

She  knew  the  thorny  way,  the  heart-torn  moan, 

And  through  the  lapse  she  knew  the  restoration. 

LIX. 
In  Troy  already  she  had  often  tried 

Her  heavy  lot  of  servitude  to  flee, 
In  agony  of  self-reproach  she  cried 

That  Aphrodite's  thrall  she  would  not  be, 

Yet  could  herself  not  of  the  Goddess  free. 
She  fought  within,  the  Grecians  fought  without, 

To  save  her  and  themselves  to  liberty  ; 
Both  of  their  struggles  were  a  ten  years'  doubt. 


1PHIGEN1A  AT  DELPHI.  165 

LX. 

Once  Aphrodite  to  her  chamber  came, 

When  Paris  had  been  slain,  her  Trojan  spouse, 

And   she  had  willed  henceforth  to   cleanse   her 

blame  ; 

The  Goddess  sought  desire  again  to  rouse, 
That  it  might  snap  afresh  her  holy  vows, 

And  promised  youth's  sweet  victory  anew, 

With  every  potent  charm  Love's  zone  endows, 

Would  give  a  young  heroic  husband  tog. 

LXI. 
The  Goddess  tried  her  far  away  to  lure, 

To  distant  East,  to  curse  of  Babylon, 
Where  she  would  have  no  struggle  to  endure ; 

Where  she  could  lie  forever  in  the  sun 

Which  showed  no  guilt,  no  deed  to  be  undone. 
But  she  resisted  all  that  blandishment, 

She  did  the  temple  of  the  Goddess  shun, 
And  to  her  soul's  own  trysting-place  she  went. 

LXII. 
Yet  Memnon  found  her  once, the  son  of  Morn, 

And  prayed  that  he  might  bear  her  to  the  day, 
Far  in  the  Orient  where  he  was  born, 

And  with  him  there  to  shine  the  early  ray 

Which  lightly  wakes  the  world  in  jocund  play ; 
But  she  refused,  she  would  return  to  Greece, 

Back  to  her  home  would  walk  the  thorny  way, 
And  there  work  out  in  sorrow  her  release. 


166  AGAMEMNON1 S  DAUGHTEB. 

LXIII. 

Then  Memnon  left,  he  was  the  last  of  all, 
Most  brave,  most  beautiful  of  Troy's  array  ; 

At  once  he  dashed  out  of  the  Trojan  wall, 
And  fighting  fell  upon  that  very  day, 
Foreknowing  well  what  in  the  battle  lay; 

As  he  breathed  out  his  breath,  that  hour  Troy  fell, 
Its  soul  was  dead  and  in  him  passed  away, 

The  Gods  departed  from  its  citadel. 

LXIV. 
The  Greeks  rushed  in  the  gate,  the  city  burned, 

The  people  and  the  aged  king  they  slew; 
Whom    once  Achilles'    wrath  had    spared,  they 
spurned, 

The  captives'  prayer  they  would  not  listen  to, 

The  cry  of  babes  no  tear  of  pity  drew. 
Vengeance  they  show  with  all  its  rage  unblest, 

Nor  think  that  they  shall  suffer  what  they  do, 
By  waking  Furies  fierce  in  their  own  breast. 

LXV. 

The  Greeks  erelong  the  wretched  Helen  found, 

They  bore  her  hastily  into  a  tent, 
With  hands  and  feet  in  triple  cordage  bound, 

And  in   their  wrath  at  once  they  would  have 
sent 

Her  soul  to  Hades  for  its  punishment ; 
But  holy  Calchas  said:   "  It  must  not  be, 

She  hath  a  spirit  new,  a  new  intent, 
And  of  her  guilty  life  she  now  is  free. 


IPHIQENIA  AT  DELPHI.  167 

LXVI. 

"  She  hath  her  evil  deed  in  full  undone, 
She  is  renewed  by  her  contrition  deep, 

And  her  young  days  of  blamelessness  hath  won  ; 
Troy  could  no  longer  changed  Helen  keep, 
Yet  with  her  lost  it  lies  a  burning  heap; 

Home  she  will  now  return  without  a  stain, 
Though  often  she  the  past  distress  beweep, 

She  is  restored,  is  Helen  once  again." 

LXVII. 

So  spake  the  priest  of  her  mid  blazing  Troy. 

But  now  she  comes  to   seek  the  Delphic  fane, 
To  have  a  share  of  all  that  tearful  joy, 

A  share  of  the  great  loss  and  greater  gain, 

Of  all  those  sad  returns  to  learn  the  bane, 
To  learn  the  blessing  which  doth  renovate, 

And  Phoebus  too,  returned,  to  greet  again, 
Beholding  e'en  a  God  regenerate. 

LXVIII. 

The  way  to  Delphi  ran  beside  the  sea, 

Which  gently  rose  and   seemed  to  stroke  the 
shrine 

Of  Aphrodite,  Love's  fair  deity; 

There  Helen  once  beheld  the  form  divine, 
And  from  the  lightning  heard  a  voice  malign 

Commanding  her  to  cross  to  Troy  the  wave: 
But  now  the   Goddess  showed  a  milder  sign, 

And  spake  in  tones  subdued  these  speeches  grave : 


168  AGAMEMNON'S  DAUGHTER. 

LXIX. 

"  O  Helen,  I,  the  Goddess,  must  confess, 

In  thy  self-conquest  thou  hast  conquered  me  ; 

In  thy  great  struggle  felt  I  mine  own  stress, 
And  now  I  feel  that  I  must  change  with  thee, 
Or  yield  to  time  and  pale  mortality. 

My  Trojan  home  doth  lie  a  ruined  heap, 
Ah  me  I  what  shall  I  do  henceforth  to  be  ? 

My  ancient  throne  I  can  no  longer  keep. 

LXX. 

"  With  all  the  Gods  I  have  old  Troy  to  leave, 

The  spirit  new  into  my  life  instil ; 
Yet  I  must  not  me  of  myself  bereave, 

Love  must  not  perish,  Love  I  can  be  still, 

Though  all  transfigured  with  another  will, 
Which  binds  the  family  in  its  sweet  grace, 

Whence  Love  shall  flow  till  it  the  world  shall  fill, 
And  reaching  up,  it  shall  the  Gods  embrace." 

LXXI. 

The  voice  had  ceased,  but  left  a  vision  strange, 
Upon  which  Helen  all  her  journey  thought : 

"  The  God  has  then  along  with  man  to  change, 
To  be  the  God  who  man  has  truly  taught, 
To  be  the  spirit  of  the  spirit  sought, 

From  whom  eternally  the  transformation 
Into  the  man  and  world  is  overwrought, 

Whereby  the  God  is  one  in  all  mutation." 


IPHIGENIA  AT  DELPHI.  169 

LXXII. 

So  Argive  Helen  came  through  guilt  to  thought; 

The  bottom  of  her  mystery  to  find 
By  looking  deep  into  herself  she  sought ; 

But  quickly  out  the  reaches  of  her  mina 

The  thought  would  flit,  and  leave  all  dark  be 
hind. 
Still  glimpses  flashed  through  mystic  meditation, 

Of  one  whose  love  of  self  took  in  her  kind, 
Whereby  she  saw  her  own  in  man's  salvation. 

LXXIII. 
There  Helen  stands  amid  the  Grecian  throng, 

More  beautiful  she  seemeth  than  before, 
She  shows  the  depths  revealing  struggles  long ; 

Not  youthful  bloom,  which  they  did  once  adore, 

But  all  the  wealth  that  flows  from  Time's  rich 

store 
Seems  now  to  lie  within  her  graven  face, 

Whose  melting  lines  would  tremble  evermore, 
And  tender  throbs  would  follow  every  trace. 

LXXIV. 

Again  the  Grecian  heroes  gather  round, 

Her  to  behold,  with  worship  in  the  heart; 
In  her  new  look  is  healed  the  last  old  wound, 

Each  knows  himself  to  be  of  her  a  part; 

He,  too,  of  destiny  had  felt  the  dart 
For  sharing  in  the  guilt  of  Trojan  life, 

Yet  was  a  wiser  man  for  all  the  smart 
When  he  to  harmony  returned  from  strife. 


170  AGAMEMNOWS  DAUGHTER. 

LXXV. 

Then  came  the  bard  with  harp  and  tuneful  voice, 
Began  to  touch  the  sure  responsive  string, 

Which  with  his  note  would  weep  or  would  rejoice  ; 
He,  too,  had  been  at  Troy  and  felt  the  sting, 
He  knew  the  triumph  and  the  suffering  ; 

He,  too,  had  thence  returned,  in  deed  and  song; 
His  deep-changed  strain  he  now  began  to  sing, 

As  he  stood  up  before  her  in  the  throng: 

LXXVI. 
"  O  Helen,  I  am  old,  and  I  am  blind, 

My  human  strength,  I  feel,  is  nearly  spent; 
But  I  have  left  in  clearer  sight  my  mind, 

Thee  to  behold  still  supereminent, 

And  see  new  glories  in  thy  beauty  blent; 
Thou  hast  preserved  all  of  thine  ancient  treasures, 

And  to  them  pain  and  gain  of  life  hast  lent ; 
Fair  thou  art  now  beyond  my  Grecian  measures. 

LXXVII. 

"  I  sang  thy  youth  in  wildest  strains  of  youth, 

Into  my  line  I  put  thy  precious  bloom, 
Thy  beauty  was  for  me  the  highest  truth, 

For  aught  but  thee  the   world   had   not  the 
room; 

I  knew  not  then  the  silent  spreading  doom 
Which  over  thee  and  over  me  was  hung, 

That  we  must  march  not  to,  but  through   the 

tomb, 
Return  alive  once  more,  though  old,  yet  young. 


IPHIGENIA  AT  DELPHI.  171 

LXXVIII. 

"  O  might  I  see  again  what  once  I  saw, 
The  hill  and  sky  and   sea,   the    Earth's   sweet 
flower ! 

Behold  thee  beautiful  without  a  flaw, 

And  feel  thee  flash  into  my  sight  the  power 
Whose  spell  into  a  moment  fleets  the  hour ! 

My  Grecian  clime  without  mine  eye  is  cold, 
It   seemeth  to  have  lost  Time's  fairest  dower; 

O  Helen,  I  am  blind  and  I  am  old. 

LXXIX. 

"  But  I  must  stop  the  Muse  of  aged  regret, 
And  sing  what  recompense  the  Gods  bestow: 

The  senses'  wilder  rapture  is  now  let, 

The  sunset  calm,  but  not  the  sunrise  glow 
Is  mine  ;  the  less  I  see,  the  more  I  know; 

Now  might  I  build  of  thy  return  the  lay  ; 
I  sing  no  more  the  battle's  overthrow, 

The  ecstasy  of  joy,   or  love's  light  play. 

LXXX. 

"  I  have  returned,  my  song  has  too  returned, 
In  tender  mood  from  furious  Trojan  vein  ; 

It  has  in  thine  its  own  new  world  discerned, 
And  tunes  to  thy  deep  soul  its  inward  strain, 
That  the  great  loss  doth  bring  the  greater  gain  ; 

And  all  these  Grecians  have  returned  with  thee, 
Not  over  Troy  we  chant  the  loud  refrain, 

But  over  our  own  selves  the  victory. 


172  AGAMEMNON'S  DAUGHTER. 

LXXXI. 

"  But  there  is  one  whom  I  still  deeply  miss, 
The  one  who  gave  herself  that  Hellas  be, 

Whom  as  a  little  maid  I  oft  would  kiss, 
When  at  the  hearth  she  sat  upon  my  knee, 
And  listened  rapt   to  childhood's  minstrelsy  ; 

The  consecrated  one  of  all,  I  say, 

She  too  must  home  return  as  well  as  we, 

Return  to  feast  with  us  this  very  day." 

LXXXII. 

Out  of  the  multitude  then  Helen  moved ; 

She  felt  upholden  by  the  bard's  strong  word, 
And  all  its  truth  in  her  own  bosom  proved ; 

Yet  she  too  felt  the  selfsame  loss  which  stirred 

Him  to  the  tender  tuneful  plaint  she  heard, 
Till  sense  of  loss  turned  one  still  cry  for  her 

Who  always  gave  herself  for  those  who  erred, 
But  in  her  own  life  never  once  did  err. 

LXXXIH. 

So  tender  flowed  the  thoughts  of  that  high  dame 
That  from  them  fell  to  earth  a  tearful  dew; 

Unto  the  border  of  the  throng  she  came, 

There  she  beheld  a  face  she  thought  she  knew, 
She  stopped,  astonished  at  the  sudden  view, 

As  if  she  saw  a  spirit  on  the  air ; 

And  when  her  stricken  speech  she  could  renew, 

She  spake  unto  that  face  before  her  there : 


1PHIGENIA  AT  DELPHI.  173 

LXXXIV. 

4'  Iphigenia,  my  hope,  hast  thou  returned? 

And  with  the  other  weeping  Greeks  art  here  ? 
For  thee  alone  we  all  just  now  have  yearned, 

And  yet  my  sense  of  sight  I  have  to  fear  — 

Mine  eye  doth  paint  thy  picture  on  its  tear  ; 
Returned  thou  hast  from  a  much  further  land 

Than  Troy,  I  ween;  from  Hades drawest  near. 
Once  more  to  make  complete  our  earthly  band. 

LXXXV. 

"  Ah  yes,  thou  hast  returned  whence  none  return, 
Thou  art  the  shade  my  longing  makes  of  thee  ; 

Thy  life  on  earth  to  live  I  daily  burn ; 
But  thou  hast  burst  the  last  captivity, 
And  wilt  no  more  the  tomb's  dark  vassal  be; 

Thou  hast  returned,  I  hear  thy  highest  call, 
Now  first  I  feel  that  I  am  truly  free, 

Thou  hast  returned  from  death,  to  save  us  all." 

LXXXVI. 

She  spake  the  hintful  words,  yet  scarcely  durst 
Draw  near  and  touch  in  love  the  ghostly  hand; 

Yet  Helen  was  of  all  the  Greeks  the  first 

To  know  the  priestess  strange  in  her  own  land. 
What  lay  in  her  return  to  understand; 

Of  womanhood  the  twain  most  different  — 
Yet  in  one    plan    complete  they    were    both 
planned, 

Two  lives  in  one  great  providence  were  blent. 


174  AGAMEMNON'S  DAUGHTER. 

LXXXVII. 

The  one  through  deepest  fall  could  highest  rise5 

And  from  her  stain  become  again  unstained ; 
The  other  rose  through  perfect  sacrifice, 

Without  the  fall  she  stainless  aye  remained ; 

Yet  each  of  them  her  own  true  good  attained, 
Each  only  through  the  other  grew  complete, 

Both  sides  were  one,  in  thought  divine    con 
tained  ; 
Now  speaks  the  seeming  ghost  in  language  meet : 

LXXXVIII. 
"  I  am  the  same  and  I  was  never  slain, 

To  Lower  Hades  I  have  yet  to  go, 
Where  dark  Proserpine  has  her  sunless  reign ; 

Yet  through  one  Hades  I  have  passed  in  woe, 

I  have  come  back  to  tell  you  what  I  know ; 
In  far  barbaric  world  has  been  my  stay, 

Where  I  was  borne  divinely  long  ago, 
When  I  at  Aulis  vanished  out  the  day. 

LXXXIX. 

"  But  tell,  what  sad  yet  happy  time  is  this, 
Wherein  ye  make  the  noble  festival  ? 

I  feel  the  sorrow  mingled  in  the  bliss, 
A  mellow  joy  that  ripens  from  the  fall, 
A  gain  that  doth  its  very  pain  recall ; 

A  melting  change  flows  out  the  common  heart, 
Ye  noble  Greeks  have  bled  at  Troy  for  all, 

But  the  old  wound  is  healed  a  better  part. 


IPHIGENIA  AT  DELPHI.  175 

XC. 

"  I  think  now  of  another  holiday, 
The  last  I  saw  in  high  Mycenss's  hall, 

When  Paris  thither  bent  his  doomf ul  way, 
And  every  Grecian  soul  he  made  his  thrall, 
Who  in  the  glances  of  his  eye  might  fall; 

Yet  would  I  not  a  single  person  name, 

We  all  were  blind,  the  guilt  belonged  to  all, 

And  to  the  Gods  we  all  have  paid  the  blame. 

XCI. 

"  But  now  we  are  restored  to  Greece  at  last, 
Though  while  we  sing  with   joy,  we   have    to 
weep, 

For  with  us  we  have  brought  all  of   the  past ; 
What  we  have  won,  we  shall  forever  keep, 
And  the  full  harvest  of  our  sorrows  reap ; 

Here  shall  we  gather  on  Apollo's  hill, 

Where  rests  the  sacred  sun  upon  the  steep, 

And  harmony  flows  down  the  Muses'  rill." 

XCII. 
From  Helen,  then,  the  people  turn  away, 

And  Helen  turns,  with  her  new  look  of  love, 
As  to  some  sky-descended  God  to  pray, 

Whose  lofty  presence  fills  the  sacred   grove ; 

To  Iphigenia  all  the  people  move, 
They  seek  to  near  the  center  of  their  life, 

Attuned  to  that  new  music  from  above, 
Transfigured  to  her  spirit  out  of  strife. 


176  AGAMEMNOWS  DAUGHTER. 

XCIII. 

They  choose  her  priestess  of  Apollo's  fane, 

The  oracle  she  will  henceforth  declare ; 
The  double  word  she  will  to  men  explain, 

Of  breath  divine  she  also  hath  a  share ; 

She  will  inform  with  speech  the  Delphic  air, 
And  add  thereto  a  measure  musical ; 

The  true  Hellenic  spirit  everywhere 
She  feels,  the  first,  then  speaks  it  clear  to  all. 

XCIV. 

In  her  the  new  Apollo  finds  his  speech, 

Not  he  who  once  against  the  Greeks  did  fight, 
But  he  who  will  his  faithful  people  teach 

The  word  of  wisdom   and  the  deed  of  right; 

He  hath  become  the  God  of  inner  light, 
Transformed  from  outer  sheen  of  Eastern  sun ; 

When  back  to  Hellas  turned  his  glances  bright, 
Another  character  divine  he  won. 

xcv. 

As  once  the  self-same  God  in  daily  toil 

Served  King  Admetus  of  fair  Thessaly, 
And  labored  like  a  bondman  of  the  soil, 

Till  of  himself  he  wrought  a  being  free, 

And  rose  therefrom  into  a  deity ; 
So  now  the  servile  Trojan  time  is  past, 

To  which  the  Grecian  God  was  held  in  fee ; 
He  has  with  other  Greeks  returned  at  last. 


IPHIGENIA  AT  DELPHI.  177 

XCVI. 

With  him,  too,  all  at  Delphi  was  traasformed, 
The  very  stones  sprang  into  temples  rare, 

And  by  a  soul  divine  within  were  warmed, 
Each  block  sought  in  itself  to  be  the  fair 
White  fane,  which  perfect  rose  upon  the  air  ; 

To  music  sweet  the  shapeless  forms  were  trimmed, 
All  marched  in  place  out  of  their  rocky  lair, 

While  lofty  old  Parnassus  to  them  hymned. 

XCVII. 

And  helpless  marble  at  a  touch  would  spring 
Into  life-seeming  shapes  of  look  divine: 

The  Muses,  who  the  sweetest  strain  could  sing, 
Apollo  who  from  stone  began  to  shine, 
And  chant  his  Delphic  lay  with  Sisters  nine. 

Forth  Gods  would  start  at  Artist's   strong  com 
mand  ; 
He  only  smote  with  chisel  on  a  line, 

But  had  a  heart-stroke  beating  from  his  hand. 

XCVIII. 
There  is  the  transformation,  too,  of  man 

To  one  who  looks  before  and  looks  behind, 
Who  in  himself  doth  past  and  future  scan, 

Pours  all  the  vasty  world  into  his  mind, 

And  cannot  rest  till  in  it  truth  he  find; 
Who  trains  his  body,  too,  until  it  be 

The  semblance  beautiful  of  all  mankind, 
Revealed  in  games  and  dance  and  poesy. 

12 


178  AGAMEMNON'S  DAUGHTER. 

XCIX. 

Tho  Gods  too  were  transformed  in  that  great  time, 
Bursting  the  bound  that  everywhere  had  stood, 

They  upwards  rose  into  Olympian  prime, 
Cast  off  the  ugly  form  of  idol  rude, 
Which  could  but  show  the  brand  of  finitude ; 

That  was  the  happy  hour  they  were  set  free, 
They  passed  from  lust  to  love,  from  greed  to 
good, 

From  red  revenge  they  turned  to  charity. 

C. 

And  Delphi  was  the  lofty  seat  thereof, 
The  bringerof  the  mighty  transformation, 

Which  came  to  earth  and  man  and  Gods  above, 
It  was  of  all  the  world  a  new  creation, 
Whose  fragrance  sweetest  fell  on  that  Greek 
nation ; 

The  priestess  now  was  borne  into  her  place, 
To  bring  about  the  final  restoration, 

Which   would  the  Greek  unite  with  all  hia  race. 

CI. 

But  see  !  what  new  procession  at  the  gate  ? 

It  moves  with  stately  march  into  the  fane, 
And  at  its  head  a  man  of  royal  state : 

Thoas  it  is,  the  king  with  all  his  train, 

In  vesture  tinct  with  many-shaded  grain, 
Not  in  white  play  of  Grecian  fold  on  fold, 

Whose  simple  ripple  flows  without  a  stain, 
But  decked  in  shifting  hues  and  shining  gold. 


IPHIGENIA  AT  DELPHI.  179 

CII. 

Soon  in  the  train  the  swell  of  music  rose 
In  many  a  blending  tone  and  winding  turn, 

Which  leaped  up  with  the  joys,  dropped  with  the 

woes, 

As  they  in  human  feeling  wordless  burn, 
Or  can,  unsatisfied  with  speech,  but  yearn; 

Then  voices  rose  together  in  a  cry 

Of  suffering,  or  song  of  struggle  stern, 

Woven  in  fancies  bright  of  minstrelsy. 

cm. 

And  mighty  bards  were  in  that  lordly  train, 

Who  there  began  to  chant  around  the  king, 
In  measures  new,  a  strange  enraptured  strain, 

Whose  very  words  would  climb  and  kiss  and 
cling, 

Yet  in  a  melody  were  ever  vanishing 
Out  of  the  world  of  sight  to  realms  unseen, 

As  they  would  hymn  the  noble  offering, 
Which  made  the  stream  of  time  flow  down  more 
clean. 

CIV. 
The  Greeks  looked  on  that  King  in  wonderment, 

All  what  they  were  he  was,  yet  he  was  more; 
Unto  their  Art  Humanity  he  lent, 

The  deepest  love  he  joined  to  widest  lore, 

In  him  the  Graces  gave  to  worth  their  store, 
In  him  had  vanished  quite  the  gentile  hate, 

Barbarian  now  he  would  the  Greek  restore, 
The  bound  of  nations  was  for  him  no  fate. 


180  AGAMEMNON'S  DAUGHTER. 

cv. 

They  asked  him  from  what  region  he  had  come, 
Whence  he  such  wisdom  in  his  life  had  learned ; 

Was  it  the  gathered  treasures  of  his  home, 
Or  of  some  other  land  where  people  burned 
To  find  what  knowledge  sought,  what  virtue 
earned? 

He  was  a  Greek,  yet  Greek  beyond  their  ken, 
In  him  a  brother  they  indeed  discerned, 

Yet  not  to  them  alone,  but  to  all  men. 

CVI. 

To  queries  yet  unspoken,  Thoas  spake : 

"  This  priestess  is  the  one  who  hath  us  taught 

And  all  our  world  the  spirit's  bond  to  break; 
She  came  to  us  a  sacrifice  unsought, 
When  she  to  the  altar  was  a  victim  brought 

By  her  own  people  ;  still  the  Taurians  say, 

An  image  fell  from  heaven,  that  hath  wrought 

Us  to  herself  by  her  long  priestly  stay. 

CVII. 
"  She  hath  the  wild  barbarian  conquered, 

Not  by  the  vengeance  of  a  Trojan  war ; 
The  savage  world  she  hath  in  triumph  led, 

But  not  enchained  to  a  prisoner's  car ; 

No  city  sacked,  no  town  in  blackened  char, 
Doth  mark  her  path  like  ghostly  skeleton  ; 

She  to  her  soul  hath  changed  the  Near  and  Far, 
And  freedom  for  a  prisoned  world  hath  won. 


IPHIGENIA  AT  DELPHI.  181 

CVIII. 

"  Now  she  hath  come  to  save  her  own  fair  land, 
As  she  hath  saved  already  Barbary; 

Home  I  have  brought  her  with  this  grateful  band, 
I  see  no  more  in  Greek  an  enemy, 
The  surest  sign  whereof  is,  Here  am  I. 

Her  sacrifice  henceforth  the  Greeks  must  show, 
And  from  revenge  live  unto  charity, 

Which  out  the  bosom  doth  the  Furies  throw. 

CIX. 

"  When   Greeks   have    blotted    out  their  spirit's 
bound 

Which  them  from  Barbary  doth  separate, 
They  have  the  holy  medicine  then  found, 

Which  will  forever  cure  their  sickly  state, 

By  taking  off  that  outer  world  of  Fate ; 
And  when  the  Furies  out  their  breast  they  cast, 

Pursuing  men  no  more  in  vengeful  hate, 
The  Furies,  too,  will  cease  pursuit  at  last." 

CX. 

At  this  strong  regal  word,  forth  from  the  train 

Orestes  stepped,  in  presence  magical; 
On  Delphic  sacred  ground  he  stood  again, 

From  which   he   once  had  fled  and  leaped  the 
wall, 

And  ran  with  horrid  cries  funereal, 
By  snaky  Furies  down  the  rocks  pursued, 

Till  he  to  Tauris  had  obeyed  the  call : 
Now  of  the  monsters  freed,  he  calmly  stood. 


182  AOAMEMNOSPS  DAUGHTER. 

CXI. 

All  Greece  had  seen  his  spell  and  pitied  him, 

Yet  for  his  ransom  knew  not  what  to  do ; 
For  Greeks  themselves  were  prey  to  vengeance 
grim, 

As  well  as  he,  they  needed  pity  too; 

And  now,  when  they  beheld  Orestes  new, 
They  could  not  think  that  he  was  truly  cured  ; 

Near  to  his  tranquil  countenance  they  drew, 
And  then  by  word  and  touch  themselves  assured. 

CXIL 
It  was  a  time  of  wild  astonishment ; 

Orestes  to  their  thousand  queries  said  : 
"  For  wise  Apollo's  sister,  Artemis,  I  went ; 

I  trailed  the  mighty  sea  to  Tauris  dread, 

For  so  the  God's  deep  oracle  I  read  ; 
There  in  a  fane  was  spoke  the  flaming  word, 

Whose  light  at  once  me  out  of  madness  led, 
When  I  in  my  dark  trance  the  priestess  heard. 

CX1II. 
"  First  from  that  speech  myself  I  truly  learned, 

I  rose  renewed,  and  looked  in  vision  free; 
My  thought  flashed    forward,  backward,  in  me 
burned, 

Till  all  the  circling  deed  I  seemed  to  see 

Take  in  the  past,  take  in  futurity. 
I  saw  the  vengeance  which  man  wreaks  on  man 

Turn  back  on  him,  and  the  avenger  be; 
His  curse  on  others  is  but  his  own  ban. 


IPEIGENIA  AT  DELPHI.  183 

CXIV. 

"  That  priestess  strange  I  found  to  be  my  sister, 

Whom  I,  perturbed,  knew  not,  but  deemed  as 

dead, 
Since  that  dark  day  the  Greeks  at  Aulis  missed  her 

From  Dian's  temple,  whither  she  was  led. 

This  is  the  sister  whom  the  God  instead 
Of  stony  idol  means  to  be  adored  ; 

Through  her  the  fanged  Furies  from  me  fled, 
With  her  restored,  am  I  and  you  restored." 

cxv. 

His  word  was  done,  but  hark!    what  gnashing 
throng 

In  maddened  wind  which  out  of  Delphi  blows ! 
And  in  that  wind  is  heard  a  wailing  song 

Which  weaker,  weaker  in  the  distance  grows, 

Yet  wrathful  still,  as  strain  of  dying  foes. 
The  pang  of  btmishment  that  voice  doth  wring, 

And  with  it  other  voices  mingle  woes ; 
List,  list!  Again  the  Fates  and  Furies  sing: 

CXVI. 

"  Farewell,  O  lovely  Delphi,  our  last  seat ! 

O  Hellas  dear,  our  ancient  home,  farewell ! 
The  bitter  hour  has  come  for  our  retreat, 

In  Thoas'  word  we  Fates  have  heard  our  knell, 

The  outer  world  we  can  no  more  compel ; 
Since  Barbary  hath  changed  its  hate  to  love, 

We  can  no  longer  lay  on  man  our  spell ; 
Away !  we  rule  no  more  the  Gods  above." 


JHUUBBBRHR9  MJk 

CXOTL 


o 


Ol  ! 


::         : 


_X    ... 


: 


o 

7  -. :  -  v  - 


7. : :  . 


*atr 


JHBHKELi  AT  JtKLTHL  '- ' ' 

CXX- 


-=- 


cxxn. 

-We 


All  m  tkroelf,  tirrsdf  B 


186  AGAMEMNON'S  DAUGHTER. 

CXXIIT. 

"  Not  them  alone,  all  are  to  be  made  whole, 

Each  man  is  to  become  thine  image  true, 
And  in  his  own  reflect  thy  perfect  soul, 

As  thou  hast  done,  will  he  forever  do. 

Yet  to  us  rises  a  still  vaster  view: 
The  nations  shall  renounce  for  one  another, 

Therein  like  thee,  shall  win  their  freedom  too, 
When  each  shall  look  on  each  as  its  own  brother." 

CXXIV. 

Such  strains  rose  out  the  fount  where  Muses  dwell, 

Last  herald  of  the  newer  minstrelsy 
The  perfect  image  floating  in  their  well 
Did  rise  and  walk  in  sight  of  mortal  eye, 
Clad  in  the  vesture  Time  shall  on  it  try, 
Transfigured  into  music  and  sweet  grace  ; 
>v  And  all  therein  the  mightier  semblance  could 

descry : 
The  man's,  the  nation's,  and  the  world's  one  face. 


BIBLIOGRAPHICAL. 

The  foregoing  poem,  first  published  in  1885,  has 
been  out  of  the  book  market  for  some  years.  As  it 
has  won  a  few  friends  —  enough  of  them  apparently 
to  keep  it  alive  a  while  yet  —  who  still  speak  of  it  oc 
casionally,  and  ask  after  it,  the  book  may  be  said 
to  have  acquired  a  certain  right  of  resuscitation. 
Accordingly  it  appears  again,  with  a  small  but  bright 
spark  of  hope  in  its  heart,  dreaming  that  it  may  have 
another  period  of  new  life,  in  which  to  gain  some 
more  friends. 

Here  the  confession  must  be  made  that  the  former 
opportunity  of  the  book  was  not  the  best.  The  first 
edition  was  badly  printed,  being  the  work  of  a  foreign 
printer,  who  united  excellent  intentions  with  a  small 
knowledge  of  English.  Then  the  proof-reader  was 
not  a  good  one,  being  myself ;  but  proof-reading  be 
came  paralyzed  when  the  correction  was  pretty  certain 
to  be  the  means  of  introducing  a  new  mistake  into  the 
types.  Several  times  I  have  had  the  vexation  of  see 
ing  critical  objections  to  the  poem  based  upon  a  typo 
graphical  error.  About  a  dozen  of  these  errors  I  have 
counted  which  are  of  the  distressing  kind ;  that  is,  they 
pervert  the  sense  or  confound  the  reader.  Still  I  do 

(187) 


188  IPHIGENIA. 

not  pretend  that  this  was  the  only  thing  that  ailed  the 
poem ;  after  all,  it  was  a  much  better  printed  book 
than  Shakespeare's  First  Folio,  which  has  not  failed 
to  make  its  way  in  the  world. 

The  reader  will  now  understand  why  I  have  long  de 
sired  to  give  to  this  child  of  my  brain  a  new  dress. 
The  whole  work  has  been  revised,  the  old  misprints 
have  been  corrected,  fresh  errors  have  been  guarded 
against  by  a  due  outlay  of  patience  and  care,  and 
specially  by  a  change  of  proof-reader.  In  addition, 
quite  a  number  of  alterations  have  been  made, 
which,  it  is  hoped,  are  improvements,  being  the  result 
of  friendly  suggestion  and  gathered  experience  from 
many  sources.  Still  there  has  been  no  attempt  to  re 
write  the  book  or  essentially  modify  it ;  to  cleanse  the 
channel  of  certain  impurities,  not  to  change  the  direc 
tion  of  the  stream  has  been  the  object. 

Another  reason  for  its  publication  at  the  present 
time  I  may  take  the  privilege  of  mentioning.  It  has 
its  place  in  a  series  of  works,  which  are  now  to  be  col 
lected  and  printed,  and  which  seek  to  embody  the 
spirit  of  Hellenism  as  it  unfolds  in  the  life  of  an  indi 
vidual  and  in  the  life  of  a  period.  The  book  presents  a 
phase  of  Greek  antiquity  transforming  itself  into  the 
modern  world  and  into  a  modern  experience.  Man}- 
such  transformations  have  been  recorded  since  the 
antique  ages ;  wonderful  indeed  is  the  capacity  of  the 
Greek  soul  for  re-incarnation.  Its  earliest  philoso 
pher,  Pythagoras,  divined  the  deepest  truth  of  it 
and  the  most  lasting.  It  has  always  to  be  born  again, 
having  its  great  and  its  little  epochs.  Such  a  period 
may  be  called  a  Renascence,  though  the  limits  of  its 
influence  be  very  small,  though  it  be  confined  to  one 
individual. 

But  whatever  be  the  view  concerning  the  met 
empsychosis  of  the  Hellenic  soul,  rising  and  assum 
ing  new  shapes  in  the  ages,  one  thing  I  may  afHrin 
as  certain :  the  present  book  is  a  link  in  the  chain 
which  runs  through  and  .holds  together  the  spiritual 
activity  of  an  individual  life.  The  time  has  arrived 


IPHIGENIA.  189 

for  bringing  this  entire  chain  to  light  in  a  series  of 
printed  books,  each  of  which,  independent  in  itself,  is 
yet  interlinked  with  the  rest. 

As  I  now  look  back  at  the  writing  of  this  poem, 
there  comes  to  mind  a  little  story  connected  with  its 
origin,  and  with  its  relation  to  myself  through  a  num 
ber  of  years,  which  story  may  help  illuminate  certain 
points  in  it,  and  possibly  the  whole  work. 

PERSONAL. 

It  may  be  taken  for  granted  that  the  friends  of  an 
author  wish  to  hear  something  of  the  history,  inner  and 
outer,  of  his  book.  Such  a  history  may  have  as  great 
value  as  the  book  itself.  Criticism  is  becoming  more 
and  more  an  insight  into  development  rather  than  a 
judgment,  and  development  takes  the  author  himself 
into  account  along  with  his  work. 

I  do  not  remember  the  exact  time  when  the  story  of 
Iphigeuia  began  to  exert  an  influence  upon  me.  But 
I  am  certain  that  the  first  strong  impression  came 
through  reading  Goethe's  Iphigenia  at  Tauris  many 
years  ago.  That  poem  on  several  lines  opens  the  eyes 
of  the  lover  of  the  Hellenic  spirit,  not  simply  by  virtue 
of  its  poetic  merit  but  through  the  example  it  gives  of 
the  transfusion  of  the  antique  into  the  modern.  It  is 
old,  yet  it  is  new ;  it  is  not  an  imitation  or  reproduction 
of  some  ancient  classic  model,  it  is  original  in  the  best 
sense,  being  a  true  literary  evolution. 

Its  influence  must  have  been  considerable,  probably 
more  than  I  was  conscious  of,  since  that  influence  was 
noticed  and  pointed  out  in  a  local  periodical  by  Dr. 
W.  T.  Harris,  then  Superintendent  of  the  Public  Schools 
of  St.  Louis,  in  a  review  of  Clarence,  a  dramatic  poem 
written  by  me,  during  the  years  1866-8,  and  printed 
some  years  later  in  a  magazine.  Still,  I  think  that 
Goethe's  poem  impressed  me  then  far  more  through  its 
literary  beauty,  than  through  its  treatment  of  the  legend. 
Of  course  the  character  of  Iphigenia,  as  there  por 
trayed,  I  felt  to  be  the  central  power  of  the  poet's  work, 
and  her  spiritual  picture  stayed  with  me. 


190  IPHIGENIA. 

The  time  when  the  legend  began  to  dawn  upon  me  in 
its  full  sweep  and  significance,  was  during  my  visit  to 
Greece.  At  Aulis,  where  Iphigenia  was  sacrificed  that 
the  Greek  fleet  might  sail  and  Helen  be  restored,  the 
impression  became  overpowering ;  it  rose  into  an  in 
tense,  sympathetic  emotion.  The  innocent  maiden, 
then,  must  give  herself  for  the  guilty  woman.  The  fact 
dawned  clear  upon  my  mind  that  the  legend  hinted,  and 
to  a  degree  prefigured  the  story  of  Christ,  who  also 
was  sacrificed  for  a  sinful  world.  At  once  the  most 
diverse  peoples  seemed  to  be  linked  together  in  one 
great  thought.  So  those  old  Greeks  had  this  concep 
tion,  which  we  usually  call  Christian ;  yet  how  differ 
ent  was  their  form  of  it !  The  great  mediatorial  figure 
at  the  heart  of  their  story  was,  not  a  man,  but  a  woman. 

At  Aulis  the  shape  and  the  thought  of  Iphigenia 
crowded  out  everything  else,  as  I  now  distinctly  recol 
lect,  whenever  I  was  alone.  I  rambled  about  the 
shore,  I  looked  at  the  island  in  the  bay,  I  went  across 
to  Chalcis ;  always  I  was  in  the  atmosphere  of  the 
Greek  maiden  who  gave  herself  as  a  sacrifice  for  the 
restoration  of  the  lost  woman.  I  stayed  at  Aulis, 
which  is  now  a  small  Albanian  village,  neai'lytwo  days, 
mid  a  wild  tumult  of  impressions  ;  it  was  as  if  1  had 
been  present  the  whole  time  at  the  tragedy.  Under 
such  circumstances  I  began  to  see,  in  fact  I  was  driven 
to  see  Iphigenia  and  Helen  in  their  relation  to  each 
other.  These  two  famous  Greek  women  are  counter 
parts,  both  are  necessary  to  the  one  complete  legend, 
to  the  one  total  cycle  of  man's  spiritual  history.  It 
also  became  apparent  that,  in  any  adequate  treatment 
of  the  legend,  the  two  women  must  be  brought  to 
gether. 

I  now  began  to  feel  that  Euripides,  to  whom  we  are 
chiefly  indebted  for  our  knowledge  of  Iphigenia,  had 
not  always  grasped  the  true  meaning  of  her  story. 
The  poet  is  naturally  the  best  interpreter  of  the  legend 
which  his  people  have  created.  Such  is,  indeed,  his 
highest  function  ;  what  lies  in  a  dim  mythical  form,  and 
in  many  fragments  of  tales  among  men,  he  is  to  bring 


IPHIGENIA.  191 

to  daylight  and  to  put  together,  and  then  to  stamp 
with  the  image  of  beauty  for  all  time.  Euripides,  in 
spite  of  his  excellences,  is  not  as  great  as  the  legend 
which  he  handles.  To  be  sure,  at  the  end  of  his 
Iphigenia  at  Aulis  he  rises  for  once  to  the  height  of 
the  seer.  But  the  call  out  of  both  his  dramas  on  the 
subject  of  Iphigenia  is  that  the  legend  must  be  re 
written.  That  call  has  often  been  heard  and  answered 
from  the  time  of  Euripides  down  to  the  present  day. 

Such  was  the  step  taken  at  Aulis  in  this  experience 
with  Iphigenia.  I  had  never  before  been  wrought  up 
so  intensely  over  a  fiction ;  still  this  fiction,  through  all 
time,  has  persisted  as  a  fact  more  solid  than  granite. 
Those  who  wish  to  see  a  longer  account  of  Aulis,  of  its 
scenery  and  impressions,  can  read  it  in  the  Walk  in 
Hellas  (Chapter  Seventh). 

The  further  reflection  came  that  this  legend  is  still 
in  the  process  of  evolution.  It  is  not  to  be  re-told  to 
day  in  the  old  Greek  sense,  but  in  the  modern  sense. 
The  ancient  conception  must  remain  —  it  is  eternal ; 
still  it  has  been  unfolding  some  2,500  years  and  more, 
into  its  true  meaning,  and  it  is  not  yet  done  unfolding. 
It  must  be  re-written  again  and  again,  with  every  new 
age  possibly,  since  the  true  legend  is  really  as  old  as 
man  and  develops  with  him. 

Passing  over  the  hills  between  Aulis  and  Delphi,  on 
foot  and  alone  most  of  the  way,  but  sometimes  behind 
the  donkey  with  its  master,  I  found  pleasure  in 
giving  the  legend  various  shapes.  Naturally  I  thought 
of  the  dramatic  form,  which  has  dominated  the  story 
from  the  beginning,  doubtless  from  the  overpowering 
example  of  the  three  great  Attic  tragedians,  all  of  whom 
have  had  something  to  do  with  the  subject  of  Iphigenia. 
The  action  began  to  assume  faint  lines,  and  I  think 
it  was  at  Thebes  that  I  wrote  out  the  first  slight  sketch 
of  an  Iphigenia  at  Aulis  as  I  sat  in  a  wineshop,  with 
muleteers  and  drivers  of  cotton  wagons  noisily  chatting 
their  modern  Greek  dialect  about  me,  but  in  whose 
speech  I  could  catch  many  a  word  and  many  a  turn  of 
expression  which  had  come  down  from  the  time  of  old 


192  IPHIGENIA. 

Homer.  Iphigenia,  too,  like  the  Greek  tongue,  must 
be  modern  yet  ancient,  and  alive  still  in  her  sacrifice. 
Even  the  language  she  spoke  became  a  living  presence 
to  me. 

Arriving  at  Delphi,  I  found  many  other  figures, 
historical  and  mythical,  crowding  into  the  vision  along 
with  that  of  Agamemnon's  Daughter.  She  was 
thought  of  there,  for  the  fact  stands  recorded ;  but  I 
do  not  remember  that  the  scheme  of  an  Iphigenia  at 
Delphi  ever  hovered  before  my  mind  during  my  some 
what  protracted  sojourn.  The  necessity  of  such  an 
addition  to  the  legend  came  later  in  my  experience, 
though  I  must  have  already  known  that  Goethe  had 
planned  a  work  of  that  name  during  his  Italian 
journey. 

Still  in  Delphi  and  in  the  Delphic  region  I  absorbed 
the  local  scenery,  and  I  felt  the  subtle  connection  which 
exists  between  the  environment  of  nature  and  the 
great  historical  fact  which  has  arisen  in  that  environ 
ment.  Delphi  was  once  the  spiritual  center  of  the 
whole  Hellenic  race,  which  found  its  unity  in  the  oracle, 
though  never  in  a  political  organism.  Delphi,  there 
fore,  gave  the  picture  of  the  priestess,  whose  influence 
reached  even  barbaric  peoples,  and  showed  how  a 
woman,  doubtless  with  the  aid  of  wise  counselors,  be 
came  for  a  time  the  grand  mediatorial  power  of  all 
Greece.  The  legend  did  not  go  beyond  the  fact  lying 
before  the  eyes  of  every  Greek,  in  the  place  which  it 
gave  to  Iphigenia.  To  be  sure  the  priestess  was  but 
the  voice  of  the  God  who  spoke  through  her ;  but  to 
be  such  a  voice  and  to  hear  the  God  when  he  speaks, 
is  quite  the  highest  gift  of  mortals. 

The  sojourn  at  Delphi  having  come  to  a  close,  I 
went  to  Corinth,  and  thence  walked  across  the  country 
to  Mycenae.  The  excavations  of  Schliemann  had  been 
concluded,  most  of  the  antiquities  had  been  trans 
ported  to  Athens  and  elsewhere ;  but  the  great  walls, 
the  mountainous  citadel,  the  Lions'  Gate,  the  treasury 
of  Atreus,  and  above  all  the  landscape  could  not  be 
carried  off  so  easily ;  thus  the  best  part  of  Mycenae 


IPHIGENIA.  193 

still  remained.  The  place  seemed  to  open  a  long  vista 
back  through  antiquity  to  the  time  of  Homer. 

Again  the  image  of  Iphigenia  appeared  and  began 
to  flit  through  the  ruins  in  company  with  Helen  and 
other  figures  of  the  Trojan  legend.  What  power  was 
it  that  once  sat  on  this  hill  ?  How  does  it  come  that 
around  this  spot  gathers  so  much  song  and  story  ? 

Not  only  does  the  movement  against  Troy  start  from 
golden  Mycenae  with  its  King  Agamemnon  as  leader, 
but  also  the  re-action  against  Helen,  shadowed  forth 
strongly  in  Greek  tragedy,  the  ethical  protest  of  the 
Greek  mind  against  the  career  of  the  beautiful  woman, 
seems  to  be  located  on  this  spot.  Of  that  protest  Iphi 
genia  is  the  most  important  figure.  Two  opposing 
currents  we  see  setting  out  from  Mycenae,  yet  both 
making  one  total  movement. 

The  image  of  Iphigenia  began  to  dominate  me  at 
Mycenae  as  completely  as  it  had  previously  at  Aulis ; 
she  was  greater  than  her  father,  and  in  certain  ways 
she  overtopped  Helen  even.  I  went  with  her  to  the 
citadel,  climbed  the  mountain  with  her  to  the  temple 
of  Artemis ;  I  followed  in  her  company  the  brook 
plunging  down  through  the  gorge  under  the  steep  walls 
of  the  city ;  I  plucked  a  flower  in  her  garden  and  sat 
on  her  summer  seat  of  rock  in  the  shade  which  fell 
from  an  overhanging  cliff. 

Under  these  circumstances  there  grew  up  in  my 
mind  the  conception  of  an  Iphigenia  at  Mycence.  It  had 
to  be  the  prelude  of  the  two  Iphigenias  by  Euripides. 
Evidently  these  plays  pre-supposed  something  of  the 
kind.  Its  thi-ce  main  facts  became  clear:  it  must 
bring  together  Iphigenia  and  Helen,  Iphigenia  and 
Paris,  and  then  Helen  and  Paris.  Thus  all  the  ele 
ments  which  afterwards  unfolded,  were  laid  in  the 
primal  legend  —  the  uuf alien,  the  fallen  and  the  temp 
ter.  That  primal  legend  could  well  have  existed,  in  its 
germ  at  least,  at  or  before  the  time  of  Homer. 

Accordingly,  the  story  of  Iphigenia  at  Mycence,  be 
gan  to  spin  itself  out  into  many  details,  under  that 
clear  Greek  sky  with  the  view  of  mountain,  plain  and 

13 


1 94  IPHIGENIA 

sea  ever  in  the  eye.  It  became  to  me  a  necessary 
stage  in  the  development  of  the  entire  Trojan  mythus. 
But  there  was  no  Iphigenia  at  Mycence,  ancient  or 
modern,  that  I  ever  heard  of ;  so  it  had  to  be  made. 
The  myth-maker  has  still  to-day  his  place,  and  has  the 
right  to  weave  his  fabric  anew.  But  I  have  no  doubt 
that  some  old  story-teller  has  already  told  this  tale 
thousands  of  years  ago,  and  I  believe  that  some  learned 
man  will  yet  dig  it  out  of  the  dust  of  an  old  library. 
Thus  the  three  Iphigenias  —  at  Mycenae,  at  Aulis  and  at 
Tauris,  began  to  shape  themselves,  in  a  crude  chaotic 
way  into  a  Trilogy,  which  still  persisted  in  taking  a 
dramatic  form. 

Another  fact  soon  rose  into  prominence.  The  total 
cycle  of  the  legend  would  not  be  complete,  unless 
Iphigenia  were  brought  back  to  Hellas  for  some  pur 
pose  which  would  make  her  return  a  necessity,  and 
which  would  show  her  in  a  new  career.  The  old 
legend  simply  restored  her  to  her  land,  and  gave  her  a 
priesthood.  But  what  is  the  inner  ground  of  this  re 
turn,  in  Greece  itself?  Then  what  locality  is  the  best 
setting  for  her  activity?  Athens  was  thought  of,  as 
hinted  by  Euripides  in  one  passage,  but  this  poet  leaves 
her  finally  at  Brauron,  an  insignificant  place  in  Attica. 
In  Argos,  in  Sparta,  and  in  other  lands  of  Greece, 
legend  pointed  out  some  temple  in  which  Iphigenia  was 
declared  to  have  served  after  her  return  from  Tauris. 
Athens,  truly  the  intellectual  light  of  Hellas,  had 
strong  claims  upon  the  new  priesthood,  but  Delphi  was 
manifestly  the  best  place,  as  the  recognized  spiritual 
center  of  all  Greece. 

It  was  in  Athens,  whither  I  went  after  my  visit  at 
Mycenae,  that  the  whole  scheme  was  sketched  in  its 
four  parts,  and  each  of  these  parts  named  from  the 
place  of  the  action.  Four  Iphigenias  had  arisen,  or 
four  phases  of  one  great  character  in  its  spiritual  pro 
cess.  But  I  could  not  then  proceed  with  the  work,  it 
reached  out  beyond  me.  There  was  nothing  to  be 
done  with  it  but  to  let  it  lie  in  the  soul  and  unfold  in 
its  own  time.  I  retraced  my  steps  through  Europe, 


IPHIGENIA.  195 

and  came  back  to  America,  in  the  year  1879  ;  still  the 
legend  kept  fermenting  within  me,  trying  to  shape 
itself  without  success.  Several  times  in  the  following 
years  I  re-wrote  the  scheme  with  new  additions  and 
sketched  some  scenes,  but  I  was  not  ready ;  the  work 
lay  seething  often,  but  formless. 

At  last  a  change  came.  Certain  ups  and  downs  of 
life  in  the  years  1881-2,  made  me  see  and  feel  in  my 
self  what  was  wanted.  Without  something  of  an 
Iphigenia  experience  you  cannot  write  an  Iphigenia 
poem.  You  must  be  immolated  by  your  own  people, 
and  you  must  consent  to  the  sacrifice ;  you  must  leave 
home  and  go  the  way  of  the  wanderer,  who  in  exile 
must  still  keep  the  sacred  lire  burning  in  himself  and 
in  the  world.  Such  is  the  great  trial  of  life,  be  the 
stage  small  or  large,  be  it  in  secret  or  in  public.  That 
inner  ordeal  by  fire,  the  final  test  of  character  as  well 
as  of  vocation,  comes  at  last  to  every  mortal. 

The  career  of  Iphigenia  now  became  not  only  a  living 
thing,  but  a  personal  experience,  which  rapidly  shaped 
itself  not  out  of  fancy  but  out  of  life.  It  could  no 
longer  make  a  classic  poem,  but  a  romantic  one  in  the 
Christian  spirit.  Such  had  been  the  development  of 
this  legend  in  history,  such  too  its  development  in  an 
individual.  Form,  meter,  and  treatment  rose  into 
clearness.  Goethe  and  Racine  had  dropped  the  ancient 
chorus,  but  retained  the  dramatic  form.  But  the 
dramatic  form  was  now  dropped,  and  the  rhymed 
romantic  epopee  took  its  place.  Thus  the  legend  went 
back  to  Homer  in  its  epical  treatment,  but  came 
down  to  the  modern  world  for  the  manner  and  the 
internal  spirit.  I  ought  to  add  that  Lang's  Helen  of 
Troy  furnished  me  with  metrical  hints  of  importance. 

In  the  fall  of  1882,  the  first  Canto  was  begun  and 
completed.  In  the  course  of  the  following  winter  it  was 
read  to  various  small  literary  circles  in  the  West.  The 
criticism  was  courteous  and  friendly,  but  through  all 
the  pleasant  words  I  then  felt,  what  I  have  often 
felt  since,  that  the  poem  was  going  to  mean  to  but  few 
people  what  it  meant  to  me.  Within  the  next  two 


196  IPUIGENIA. 

years  the  whole  work  was  finished,  and  the  four  Iphi- 
genias,  yet  one,  stood  before  me  at  least,  in  word  and 
deed.  I  had  lived  the  poem  inwardly,  and  even  out 
wardly  to  a  certain  extent.  The  various  portions  of 
the  work  were  written  in  my  wanderings  to  widely 
separated  places :  Avondale,  Ohio ;  Concord,  Mass. ; 
New  York  City;  Terre  Haute,  Ind. ;  Peak's  Island, 
Maine.  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  I  had  my  reward 
for  this  fidelity  to  Iphigenia. 

Printed  and  given  to  the  world,  the  work  was  no 
longer  mine  individually,  but  anybody's.  Six  years 
and  more  have  gone  by  since  its  publication ;  I  now 
(summer  of  1891)  turn  back  to  it  almost  as  if  it  were 
another  man's  production.  I  have  not  only  revised  the 
text,  but  have  again  thought  over  the  legend  and  read 
its  most  important  literary  manifestations.  I  can  say 
that  once  more  I  have  taken  it  up  into  my  being  and 
let  it  flow  through  my  daily  life.  This  second  working- 
over,  doubtless  my  last,  of  the  Iphigenia  legend  I  pro 
pose  to  add  as  a  small  pendant  in  prose,  to  the  story  in 
verse.  It  is  more  than  likely  that  some  may  be  induced 
to  read  the  prose  who  would  skip  the  verse.  The  main 
object  is  to  see  the  whole  sweep  of  the  legend,  in  its 
germinal  meaning,  in  its  growth,  and  in  its  literary 
manifestations. 

THE  IPHIGENIA  LEGEND. 

The  great  fact  which  gives  to  the  Iphigenia  legend 
its  deathless  charm  and  interest,  as  well  as  its  infinite 
suggestiveness,  is  its  similarity  to  the  story  of  Christ. 
There  is  in  both  the  innocent  sacrifice  for  another's 
guilt ;  the  sinless  one  must  give  himself  that  the  sinful 
one  be  redeemed  and  restored,  and  the  act  must  be 
voluntary.  An  awful  thought  it  is,  not  to  be  enter 
tained  in  its  reality  without  a  shudder.  There  is,  then, 
another  law  besides  justice  in  the  government  of  this 
universe.  The  human  being,  in  his  supreme  grandeur, 
is  immolated  by  his  people,  and  he  accepts  his  sacri 
fice  as  a  necessity  of  the  world's  order. 


IPHIGENIA.  197 

Yet  the  compensation  must  never  be  forgotten :  by 
giving  himself  he  saves  himself.  "  He  that  loseth  his 
life  shall  find  it "  is  as  true  of  Christ  himself  as  of  any 
of  his  followers.  He  had  not  been  what  he  was,  if  he 
had  not  given  himself.  Christ  himself  was  saved  by 
his  own  sacrifice.  Listen  now  to  the  heathen  poet, 
Euripides.  In  the  very  pinch  of  agony  the  mother  of 
Iphigenia  cries  out  to  her  daughter  who  has  resolved 
to  give  herself  to  the  Goddess:  "Having  lost  thee, 
my  child"  —  "But  thou  shalt  not  lose  me,  I  am 
saved,"  was  the  answer.  (7p7i.  at  Aulis,\.  1440.) 
Through  her  death  has  come  salvation. 

Another  point  of  similarity  which  reaches  deep  into 
the  divine  order  of  things,  is  the  missionary  character 
common  to  both  lives.  "  Go  ye  into  all  the  world," 
is  the  strong  command  of  the  one,  and  the  touchstone 
of  his  spirit.  Iphigenia  is  carried  to  Tauris,  the  land 
of  the  Barbarians,  where  she  serves  as  a  priestess,  and 
becomes  the  embodiment  there,  as  well  as  the  doctrine, 
of  her  own  sacrifice.  For  the  one,  the  limit  of  Jew 
and  Gentile  is  broken  down ;  for  the  other  the  limit  of 
Greek  and  Barbarian  is  transcended ;  both  are  univer 
sal,  and  seek  the  transformation  of  humanity  into  the 
image  of  what  is  universal.  That  is  the  best  solution 
of  the  problem  of  evil  which  has  yet  been  reached. 

Still  the  differences  between  the  two  lives  are  very 
marked  and  very  important.  In  the  one  case  the 
mediator  is  a  woman,  in  the  other  case  a  man.  The 
one  belongs  to  the  Occident,  and  has  a  subtle  connec 
tion  with  its  spirit ;  the  other  belongs  to  the  Orient, 
and  never  loses  his  Hebrew  features  amid  his  univer 
sality.  In  the  one  case  it  is  rather  the  secular,  insti 
tutional  life  of  man  which  is  to  be  redeemed  —  Family 
and  State,  and  we  may  add,  Civilization.  Helen  must 
be  restored  to  husband  and  country,  to  Europe.  In 
the  other  case,  it  is  the  religious  life  of  man  which  is 
to  be  saved,  without  much  regard  being  paid  to  the 
things  of  Caesar ;  man  is  mediated  with  God,  is  rescued 
from  his  own  destructive  thought  and  deed,  and  is 
harmonized  with  the  divine  order.  In  the  end,  this 


198  IPHIGENIA. 

will  embrace  State  and  Family  and  Civilization.  The 
Greek  legend  shows  its  secular  side  in  being  rather 
the  source  of  art  with  its  vision  through  the  senses ; 
the  Hebrew  life  shows  its  religious  power  by  being  the 
source  of  worship,  with  its  contemplation  of  the  Divine 
through  the  soul.  Still  both  characters  unite  at  last 
in  the  spirit ;  secularity  and  religiosity  become  one  in 
humanity.  Both  stories  reach  down  to  a  common  ele 
ment  in  all  peoples  and  foster  it,  and  appeal  to  it,  for 
their  power  and  inspiration. 

We  may,  therefore,  affirm  that  of  all  the  legends 
which  the  old  Greek  world  has  handed  down  to  us,  the 
legend  of  Iphigenia  is  the  most  completely  prophetic, 
and,  hence,  has  within  it  the  possibility  of  the  most 
complete  unfolding  into  the  modern  world. 

It  hints  the  later  movement  of  Christianity  in  the 
spiritual  conqiiest  of  Heathendom,  and  reaches  with 
its  alluring  suggestiveness  down  into  the  present ;  may 
we  not  say,  even  into  the  future  ?  This  significance  of 
the  legend  is  a  development,  not  an  analogy,  not  an 
allegory;  the  legend  unfolds  with  the  race,  and 
images  ever  afresh  what  the  race  has  realized.  Later 
poets  new-model  the  old  story ;  looking  back  on  time 
from  their  vantage-ground,  they  see  this  unfolding 
and  give  to  the  legend  the  new  meaning,  which  is, 
however,  but  a  development  of  the  old. 

There  is  another  fact  which  belongs  in  this  connec 
tion  ;  the  legend  is  the  product  of  the  people,  not  of 
an  individual.  Usually,  it  is  at  first  in  a  fragmentary 
condition ;  there  are  many  shreds  of  the  one  great  story 
floating  about,  as  we  can  see  in  the  case  of  the  Trojan 
war.  Every  new  recital,  being  oral  and  the  direct  in 
spiration  of  the  Muse,  adds  fresh  touches ;  thus  the 
variations  of  the  same  tale  among  the  people  are  often 
many  and  great. 

Still  the  legend  is,  at  bottom,  one,  in  all  of  its  frag 
ments.  The  unity  is  latent,  in  the  idea ;  the  variety  is 
manifest,  in  the  appearance.  As  long  as  the  legend 
remains  in  the  mouths  of  the  people,  it  continues  to  be 
fragmentary,  yet  perpetually  growing,  changing,  de- 


IPHIGENIA.  199 

veloping.  Two  things  are  to  be  noted  in  the  popular 
legend :  outer  fragmentariness,  inner  oneness.  In  this 
condition  the  poet  takes  it  up ;  he  seizes  the  fragments 
and  throws  them  into  the  furnace  of  his  genius ;  the 
slag  falls  away  and  the  pure  gold  remains.  It  is  the 
poet  who  brings  out  to  light  this  inner  unity  of  the 
legend,  he  organizes  all  the  fragments  into  one  central 
life  ;  in  his  hands  they  assume  a  form  and  are  a  totality. 
It  is  always  difficult  to  grasp  this  unity,  being  such  an 
elusive  thing,  an  idea.  Many  people  to-day  can  sec 
only  the  fragments  of  the  Iliad,  even  after  the  work  of 
the  poet  who  has  unified  them. 

But,  back  of  the  poem,  the  unity  of  the  legend, 
though  implicit,  is  to  be  also  seen.  Just  as  the  people 
is  one,  but  composed  of  many  fragments  and  divisions, 
each  of  which  is  nevertheless  some  shred  of  itself,  so 
the  legend,  the  product  and  image  of  the  people'-s 
spirit,  is  one,  though  made  up  of  many  fragments. 
The  Great  Man,  or  Hero  of  the  People  is  the  one  man 
who  is  the  best  summary  of  them  all,  being  reduced  to 
one  personality.  The  great  poem  in  like  manner  unites 
all  the  fragments  of  legend  into  one  complete  legend ; 
thus  it  is  all  of  them  and  itself  too.  A  true  poem  does 
not  merely  tell  the  stories  over  again,  as  they  have  been 
handed  down ;  it  organizes  them  into  a  unity  which  is 
its  very  soul,  while  they  are  the  body. 

Still,  after  the  poem  has  been  written,  the  legend 
does  not  cease  growing ;  it  develops,  as  the  people  de 
velops,  as  the  world  develops.  Writing  ought  not  to 
stop  growth  and  cannot.  The  written  word  though 
much  less  pliable  than  the  spoken  word,  is  also  in  the 
process.  Hence  after  a  lapse  of  time  the  poem  with  its 
legend  must  be  re-written,  and  made  to  reflect  the  new 
time  and  the  new  spirit.  The  story  of  Helen  will  have 
to  be  re-told  with  every  great  revival  of  human  spirit, 
mirroring  the  fresh  outlook  of  the  soul  down  the  ages. 
Homer's  story  of  Helen  will  not  become  superannuated, 
but  reach  a  higher  appreciation;  still  the  story  will 
have  to  be  re- written.  So  it  has  been  in  the  past,  so  it 
will  continue  to  be.  The  same  is  true  of  the  storv  of 


200  IPHIGENIA. 

Iphigenia,    perhaps  even  truer,   for  her  story  has  a 
deeper  prophetic  vein  than  that  of  Helen. 

It  is  now  worth  our  while  to  take  a  short  survey  of 
the  history  of  the  Iphigenia  legend  in  its  literary  trans 
formations.  As  already  hinted,  it  has  often  been  re 
written  ;  it  has  woven  its  thread  of  light  through  all 
literature  from  the  Greek  downwards.  A  little  tracing 
of  that  thread  is  helpful,  it  will  show  the  story  develop 
ing  with  the  race. 

HISTORY  OF  THE  IPHIGENIA  LEGEND. 

Homer  does  not  mention  the  Iphigenia  legend.  In 
a  single  passage  (Iliad  IX.  145)  Agamemnon  speaks 
of  Iphianassa  as  one  of  his  three  daughters,  who  is  at 
home,  and  whom  Achilles  can  have  in  marriage,  if  he 
will  only  cease  from  his  wrath.  If  this  be  the  earlier 
Iphigenia,  and  such  is  doubtless  the  case,  she  has  not 
been  sacrificed  at  Aulis  before  the  departure  for  Troy. 

Still  from  the  silence  of  Homer,  we  have  no  right  to 
infer  that  the  legend  had  not  begun  to  exist  in  his  time, 
nor  even  that  he  did  not  know  of  it.  The  fact  is  that 
Homer  knew  many  legends  to  which  he  makes  merely 
a  passing  allusion.  It  is  quite  probable  also  that  he 
knew  many  which  he  does  not  mention.  There  is  no 
valid  reason,  therefore,  for  saying,  as  is  usually  done, 
that  the  Iphigenia  legend  is  post-Homeric.  Unques 
tionably  it  unfolded  into  new  shapes  after  the  time  of 
Homer ;  but  the  likelihood  is  that  it  had  begun  unfold 
ing  before  his  time,  as  was  the  case  with  the  story  of 
Helen.  All  these  legends  existed  before,  and  after, 
and  with  Homer;  they  changed,  they  grew,  as  living 
things  must  change  and  grow. 

In  fact,  the  earliest  form  of  the  Iphigenia  legend  must 
have  been  a  song  in  the  epical  fashion  of  Homer. 
The  dramatic  form,  in  which  we  first  find  this  legend, 
is  itself  a  growth  out  of  the  epic.  In  the  Iphigenia 
dramas  of  Euripides,  one  may  still  trace  certain  primi 
tive  epical  elements,  such  as  the  interference  of  Arte 
mis  and  of  Athena. 

Still  one  must  see  that   the  general  thought  of  the 


IPHIGENIA.  201 

Iphigenia  legend  is  in  Homer  too,  though  not  yet  ex 
plicit.  All  the  Greeks  before  Troy  had  to  offer  them 
selves  in  sacrifice,  quitting  home  and  country  for  war, 
that  Helen  be  restored.  Wives  and  children  of  the  ab 
sent  soldiers  had  to  suffer,  even  to  perish  in  the  same 
cause.  But  the  vivid  concentration  of  this  thought 
into  a  person,  and  a  woman,  too,  is  not  the  work  of 
Homer,  but  is  first  found  in  jiEschylus,  though  he  m&y 
have  derived  it  from  the  popular  legend  or  from  the 
later  epics.  The  dramatic  character  now  steps  forth, 
living,  acting  with  a  principle  in  the  heart. 

^Eschylus  has  transmitted  to  us  the  name  of  Iphi 
genia,  and  has  spoken  of  her  sacrifice  at  Aulis.  She 
does  not  appear  in  person  in  any  of  his  extant  dramas ; 
still  she  has  taken  her  place  in  the  legend,  and  Cly- 
temnestra,  in  the  Agamemnon,  makes  the  sacrifice  of 
her  daughter  the  chief  motive  or  pretext  for  slaying 
her  own  husband. 

The  second  great  tragic  poet  of  Hellas,  Sophocles, 
also  makes  an  allusion  to  the  sacrifice  of  Iphigenia  at 
Aulis  in  his  Electra.  He  too  is  said  to  have  written 
on  the  same  subject  a  play  which  is  lost.  Both 
^Eschylus  and  Sophocles  apparently  think  that 
Iphigenia  perished  at  Aulis,  that  she  was  not  rescued 
by  any  divine  interference  of  the  Goddess  Artemis. 
To  be  sure,  from  their  silence  we  cannot  infer  that  the 
legend  was  altogether  silent  upon  this  point  in  their 
day.  It  is,  however,  the  third  great  tragic  poet  of 
Greece,  Euripides,  who  has  given  the  fullest  elabora 
tion  of  the  Iphigenia  legend.  He  has  devoted  two 
plays  to  the  subject,  which  are  still  extant,  and  which 
have  been  the  main  source  whence  later  dramatists 
have  drawn  their  materials. 

The  student  of  this  legend  will  of  necessity  give  to 
these  plays  of  Euripides  a  careful  examination.  They 
are  deeply  suggestive  though  not  always  profoundly 
treated.  On  the  whole  we  have  to  conclude  that  the 
legend  is  greater  than  the  poet.  These  productions 
were  effective  dramas,  doubtless ;  they  justify  the 
title  of  Euripides  as  being  ' '  the  most  tragic  of  poets  ; ' ' 


202  IPHIGENIA. 

still  in  many  respects  they  must  have  seemed  external 
to  the  best  Greek  minds  of  the  age  of  Socrates  and 
Plato —  that  is,  of  the  poet's  own  age. 

The  Iphigenia  legend  has  an  historical  importance 
from  the  fact  that  it  has  mirrored  itself  in  so  many 
souls  of  succeeding  epochs,  especially  among  Latin 
peoples.  In  old  Rome,  Italy,  France,  it  has  had  a 
numerous  offspring.  But  the  greatest  child  of  the 
Iphigenia  legend  is  of  Teutonic  origin.  The  poem  of 
Goethe  may  be  called  the  best  embodiment  of  the 
spirit  of  the  Iphigenia  legend  that  has  ever  been 
caught  and  held  in  human  speech,  whether  in  ancient 
or  modern  times.  Still  the  other  efforts  give  some  re 
flection  of  the  age  and  nation  of  their  authors.  Thus 
we  have  an  image  of  Universal  History  cast  into  these 
manifold  transformations  of  a  single  old  legend. 

But  we  shall  have  to  make  a  selection,  and  give  a 
short  account  of  the  four  which  have  shown  themselves 
the  most  lasting  and  important,  two  of  which  belong  to 
antiquity  and  two  to  our  modern  epoch.  They  are 
the  Iphigenia  at  Aulis,  as  treated  by  Euripides  and 
Racine,  and  the  Iphigenia  at  Tauris  as  treated  by 
Euripides  and  Goethe.  This  will  be  sufficient  to  show 
the  historic  unfolding  of  the  legend  in  the  hands  of  its 
greatest  expositors. 

Iphigenia  at  Aulis  by  Euripides. —  The  argument  of 
the  play  runs  in  this  wise :  The  Greeks  are  detained 
at  Aulis  by  stress  of  weather ;  Calchas  the  sooth-sayer 
declares  that  they  never  will  reach  Troy  till  Iphigenia, 
the  daughter  of  Agamemnon,  be  sacrificed  to  Artemis. 
This  is  the  stern  background  of  the  action  ;  a  priest's 
declaration  of  the  will  of  deity,  which  here  demands 
the  slaughter  of  the  innocent  for  the  guilty. 

Agamemnon  sends  for  his  daughter  under  pretext  of 
a  marriage  with  Achilles,  then  repents ;  Menelaus  also 
urges  the  sacrifice  at  first,  then  he  too  repents,  seeing 
the  tears  of  his  brother.  Meantime  Iphigenia  arrives 
with  her  mother,  Clytemnestra,  to  celebrate  the  mar 
riage  when  the  real  situation  is  discovered.  The 
mother  and  Achilles  seek  to  thwart  the  sacrifice. 


2PHIGENIA.  203 

Particularly  Clytemnestra  enforces  the  moral  aspect  of 
such  a  deed:  "A  pretty  custom,  forsooth,  that 
children  must  pay  the  price  of  a  bad  woman,"  and 
"Menelaus  obtain  his  Helen."  Moreover  Helen  has 
a  daughter,  Hermione,  and  justice  demands  that  this 
daughter  be  sacrificed  instead  of  the  daughter  of  the 
unoffending  mother.  "I,  the  faithful  wife,  shall  be 
bereaved  of  my  child,  but  she  who  has  sinned,  bearing 
her  daughter  under  her  care  to  Sparta,  will  be  happy." 
Thus  Clytemnestra  strongly  utters  the  moral  protest 
against  the  claim  of  religion. 

In  contrast  to  this  opposition  of  the  mother,  Iphi- 
genia  rises  to  her  supreme  height  of  character.  After 
some  hesitation,  and  even  resistance,  she  yields  and 
offers  herself  voluntarily.  As  her  spirit  grows  clearer 
with  the  vision  of  her  deed,  she  is  not  only  ready,  but 
is  determined  to  die.  "Hear  me,  mother,  thinking 
upon  what  has  entered  my  mind :  I  have  determined 
to  die,  and  this  I  would  fain  do  gloriously,  dismissing 
all  ignoble  thoughts."  How  far  does  her  glance  reach 
beyond  that  of  her  mother,  who  could  only  see  in  this 
sacrifice  that  Menelaus  would  recover  his  bad  wife ! 
But  Iphigenia  knows  that  her  deed  is  ' '  for  the  woman 
hereafter;"  she  beholds  it  in  its  universal  aspect; 
"barbarians  will  no  longer  carry  off  Greek  women," 
after  the  destruction  of  Troy,  which  she  brings  about 
through  her  sacrifice.  The  Greeks  will  sail  and  avenge 
the  wrong  of  Helen  whom  Paris  carried  away.  She 
declares  that  life  is  not  the  highest  good :  "  It  is  not 
right  that  I  should  be  too  fond  of  life,  for  thou,  O 
mother,  hast  brought  me  forth  for  the  common  good  of 
Greece,  not  for  thyself  only." 

There  is,  now  and  then,  a  hint  of  universal  redemp 
tion  running  through  her  utterances :  "All  these  things 
I,  dying,  shall  redeem  and  my  memory,  for  that  I  have 
freed  Greece,  will  be  blessed."  In  her  vision  of  the 
future,  she  beholds  herself  in  the  center  of  the  great 
Trojan  enterprise :  "I  give  my  body  for  Greece ;  sac 
rifice  it  and  take  Troy.  For  a  long  time  to  come  this 
will  be  my  monument ;  this  will  be  my  children,  my 


204  IPHIGENIA. 

marriage,  my  glory."     Not  much  beyond  this  point 
is  it  possible  for  the  human  soul  to  climb. 

Yet  Iphigenia  mounts  a  step  higher.  Is  this  sacri 
fice  really  death?  The  mother  speaks  to  her:  "  Hav 
ing  lost  thee  my  child  "  —  "  But  thou  shalt  not  lose 
me,  I  am  saved."  Sacrifice,  then,  is  not  death,  but 
life.  Bad  would  it  be  for  her,  if  she  did  not  offer  her 
self;  then  she  were  truly  dead,  buried  in  a  living 
tomb  of  flesh.  Moreover  the  mother  too  will  not  fail 
of  the  blessing :  "  Thou  wilt  be  glorious,  as  far  as  I  am 
concerned." 

Accordingly,  there  are  to  be  no  signs  of  mourning 
for  her  death ;  no  tears,  no  cropping  of  the  locks,  no 
wearing  of  dark  garments.  For  does  she  not  really 
attain  true  life  by  her  act  ?  Finally  she  asks  to  be  led 
forth,  not  as  a  victim  but  as  a  conqueress :  ' '  Raise 
the  paean,  let  the  joyful  song  go  forth  to  the  Greeks ; 
conduct  me  hence,  the  conqueror  of  the  cities  of  Troy 
and  of  the  Phrygians."  Then  the  parting  word: 
"Farewell,  beloved  light." 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  this  character  of 
Iphigenia  is  conceived  and  expressed  by  the  poet 
in  the  supreme  height  of  the  spirit.  She  becomes 
truly  inspired  in  her  sacrifice,  a  seeress.  She  fore 
shadows  much  that  is  to  be  unfolded  afterwards,  she 
has  the  prophetic  character.  Hers  is  that  wonderful 
union  of  vision  and  the  deed,  which  produces  the 
greatest  figures  of  history  and  poetry.  In  this  respect 
no  poet  after  Euripides  has  surpassed  him,  and  in  his 
other  play  on  Iphigenia  he  has  by  no  means  equaled 
himself,  as  he  shines  forth  here. 

There  is  another  trait  of  Iphigenia,  which  is  also 
found  in  the  present  drama :  it  is  the  nun-like  element 
in  her  character,  which  looks  away  from  domestic  life 
to  some  universal  end.  She  says,  speaking  of  her 
sacrifice:  "  this  will  be  my  marriage,  my  children,  my 
glory."  The  woman  thus  surrenders  her  life  in  the 
Family,  for  a  purpose  which  she  deems  above  the 
Family.  This  trait,  already  brought  out  by  Euripides, 


IPI1IGENIA.  205 

and  inherent  in  the  story,  will  be  kept  and  intensified 
as  the  legend  develops  in  the  ages  afterwards. 

From  a  purely  dramatic  point  of  view,  the  play  must 
be  called  effective.  It  has  not  only  unity,  but  a  strong 
vital  center  of  action,  namely  the  sacrifice,  which  is 
announced  at  the  beginning  and  continues  the  main 
thing  to  the  end.  All  the  characters  stand  in  some  re 
lation  to  this  deed,  mainly  in  an  attitude  of  protest 
and  horror.  Agamemnon  at  first  consents  to  it,  then 
repents,  and  finally  yields  to  what  he  deems  a  divine 
necessity.  Menelaus  is  urgent  at  the  start,  then  he, 
too,  changes.  The  old  messenger,  Achilles,  Clytem- 
nestra,  all  stand  in  persistent  hostility  to  this  terrible 
demand  for  a  human  life. 

Two  rise  up  on  the  other  side,  hard  as  granite  and 
high  as  heaven  —  the  Goddess  and  the  Priest.  There 
is  no  reason  given  in  this  play  for  the  dire  command  of 
the  deity,  though  the  poet  elsewhere  has  hinted  the 
ground  of  divine  wrath.  Thus  the  action  shows  the 
strong  protest  of  humanity  against  the  external  author 
ity  of  religion.  Euripides  feels  and  portrays  the  con 
flict  of  the  new  spirit  with  the  old  creed  which  has 
become  a  horrible  superstition. 

Still,  in  the  end,  the  Goddess  rescues  the  maiden 
who  has  so  nobly  offered  herself  in  sacrifice,  and  the 
audience  is,  to  a  certain  extent,  reconciled  with  the 
divine  order.  Behind  this  gross  fabric  of  superstition 
there  is  a  power  that  saves.  Instead  of  the  human 
being,  a  stag  lies  bleeding  on  the  altar,  and  Iphigenia 
has  disappeared.  This  rescue  is  purely  external  in  the 
way  in  which  it  is  brought  about,  still  we  connect  it 
with  the  voluntary  deed  of  the  maiden,  who  has  really 
saved  herself  by  her  sacrifice. 

Deeper  than  the  protest  of  the  ethical  consciousness 
against  a  bloody  religious  rite  is  the  reconciliation  with 
religion  in  this  play.  Deity  saves  through  self-sacri 
fice  —  that  is  the  law  which  we  can  read  here.  It  is 
not  a  tragedy  exactly,  it  is  a  tragedy  mediated  in  the 
deepest  manner,  and  a  woman  is  the  grand  mediatorial 
character.  It  touches  at  this  point  a  whole  series  of 


206  IPHIGENIA. 

Shakespeare's  plays  usually  classed  as  comedies,  but 
by  no  means  mirth  provoking.  Nay,  it  hints  the  Mar 
garet  who  is  saved  in  her  self-surrender  and  death  at 
the  end  of  the  first  part  of  Faust. 

So  we  must  give  Euripides  credit  for  his  character  of 
Iphigenia  in  the  latter  part  of  this  play.  One  thinks 
that  he  must  have  obtained  his  inspiration  for  such  a 
high  strain  from  ^schylus,  who  also  treated  this  por 
tion  of  the  Iphigenia  legend  in  a  lost  drama.  Still 
the  command  of  the  Goddess  at  the  beginning  and  at 
the  end  of  the  play  is  external  and  capricious ;  we 
cannot  help  feeling  that  the  legend  has  something  in  it 
greater  than  the  present  dramatic  presentation  of  it 
by  Euripides.  Before  his  time,  some  spirit,  be  it  that 
of  the  people,  or  that  of  a  poet,  or  both  together,  had 
drawn  the  vast  outlines  of  the  legend,  which  the  later 
dramatist  was  not  able  to  fill. 

Iphigenia  at  Aulis  by  Racine. —  The  French  poet,  in 
his  drama,  also  finds  a  substitute  for  Iphigenia  at  the 
altar;  not  the  stag,  but  another  woman.  That  is, 
Iphigenia  is  not  sacrificed,  she  escapes  by  a  contriv 
ance  of  the  dramatist.  Thus  she  is  no  longer  Iphige 
nia,  the  soul  of  her  character  is  gone.  The  deep 
reconciliation,  which  comes  through  the  sacrifice,  is 
totally  lost;  she  cannot  now  be  saved  through  her 
grand  self-immolation.  The  Christian  poet  falls  infin 
itely  behind  the  Heathen  poet  just  in  the  spirit  of 
Christianity. 

Racine  retains  the  same  rigid  background  of  a  re 
ligious  injunction  which  we  find  in  Euripides.  The  com 
mand  of  the  Goddess,  enforced  by  the  priest,  is  given 
to  Agamemnon,  who  is  to  obey  without  question, 
though  he  knows  no  ground  for  such  a  terrible  man 
date.  A  passage  declares  that  Calchas  now  is  com 
mander,  a  priest  has  usurped  the  authority  of  the  King. 
One  can  feel  here  an  allusion  to  France,  possibly  the 
unconscious  background  it  is  to  Louis  the  Fourteenth 
and  priestly  domination. 

But  in  this  hard  outer  setting  of  a  religious  rite 
Racine  spins  a  love  story,  Achilles  being  the  lover  of 


IPHIGENIA.  207 

Ipbigenia.  In  order  to  make  the  plot  more  compli 
cated,  there  is  introduced  another  woman,  a  character 
unknown  to  Euripides.  This  new  woman  loves 
Achilles;  Eriphile  is  her  name,  and  the  two  women 
have  their  mutual  jealousies,  their  secret  cabals,  and 
also  their  open  quarrel  over  their  lover.  Such  has  be 
come  our  Greek  nun  in  the  hands  of  that  good  French 
man,  Racine,  who,  it  is  said,  could  never  see  a  novice 
taking  the  veil  without  weeping.  The  details  of  the 
Parisian  love  intrigue  have  a  strange  color  when  inter 
woven  into  the  Greek  fable. 

In  the  last  pinch  of  danger  the  heroic  Achilles  with 
true  gallantry  resolves  to  rescue  his  lady-love  from  the 
sacrificial  altar  by  violence.  This  brings  about  the 
solution.  Eriphile,  the  hateful  rival  is  really  meant  by 
the  Goddess,  she  being  the  daughter  of  Helen  by 
Theseus,  and  having  been  brought  up  in  Lesbos,  from 
which  island  she  has  been  taken  captive  in  a  maraud 
ing  expedition  of  the  Greeks.  The  confusion  all  arose 
from  the  fact  that  she  went  under  the  name  of  Iphige- 
nia ;  hence  the  Goddess  meant  one  person,  while  the 
Greeks  thought  she  meant  another.  Calchas  at  the  end 
of  the  play  corrects  the  mistake,  which  was  his  own, 
and  poor  Eriphile,  whom  we  are  to  hate,  has  to  bleed. 

So  Racine  has  discovered  a  substitute  for  Iphigenia, 
and  he  takes  a  good  deal  of  credit  to  himself,  in  the 
preface  of  his  play,  for  his  discovery.  He  has  found 
in  classic  authors  (Stesichorus  and  Pausanias)  author 
ity  for  stating  that  it  was  Iphigenia,  the  daughter  of 
Helen,  who  was  sacrificed  at  Aulis.  He  has  entirely 
lost  sight  of  the  sacrifice  of  the  good  for  the  bad, 
whereby  not  only  the  bad  is  restored  but  even  the  good 
is  saved.  But  Eriphile  too  is  innocent,  though  she  be 
the  daughter  of  the  sinful  Helen,  and  though  the  poet 
tries  to  make  her  hateful,  so  that  it  is  hard  to  see  what 
Racine,  from  his  own  point  of  view,  has  gained.  By 
his  way  of  saving,  Iphigenia  is  certainly  destroyed. 
It  is  true  that  she  personally  offers  herself,  when  there 
is  no  need,  for  she  is  not  taken. 

Eriphile  at  the  final  moment,  kills  herself  in  a  frenzy 


208  IPHIGENIA. 

of  wrathful  defiance ;  she  is  not  slain  by  the  priest, 
nor  does  the  Goddess  interfere  on  her  behalf.  Thus 
Racine  thinks  that  he  has  gotten  rid  of  an  incredible 
piece  of  superstition.  The  godlike  element  in  his 
work  he  has  indeed  gotten  rid  of.  Now  there  is  no 
reconciliation  with  the  command  of  the  Goddess ;  it  is 
left  a  cruel  arbitrary  act  of  the  deity  without  any  sav 
ing  power. 

The  play  of  Racine,  to  the  taste  of  the  present  time 
among  English-speaking  and  German-speaking  peoples, 
turns  to  an  unconscious  parody  of  the  Classic.  How 
Frenchy  it  all  is,  we  cry  out,  particularly  at  the  love  in 
trigue.  Still  there  is  a  side  on  which  he  was  right  in 
principle ;  it  is  the  manner  of  his  execution  to  which  we 
cannot  assent.  He  had  the  right  to  put  his  own  time 
into  the  legend.  But  he  has  not  unfolded  either  the 
legend  or  the  character  of  Iphigenia  into  its  true 
modern  life.  He  has  also  thrown  into  his  play  some 
thing  which  is  discordant  with  the  old  story.  In  gene 
ral  the  charge  against  him,  is,  that  he  has  not 
harmonized  us  with  the  Gods,  but  left  us  in  a  far 
deeper  discord  with  the  divine  order  than  the  Heathen 
poet  did.  He  has  solved  the  sacrifice  of  Iphigenia  by 
putting  in  her  place  a  substitute,  and  an  innocent 
one  at  that.  Whereat  we  cry  out  still,  why  sacrifice  this 
guiltless  being  ?  We  refuse  to  accept  the  substitute, 
and  the  Goddess  does  not  save  her ;  thus  we_are  drop 
ped  at  the  end  into  utter  discord. 

It  is  clear  that  Racine  in  his  desire  to  save  "  that 
amiable  and  virtuous  princess"  has  lost  her  soul.  For 
Iphigenia  is  mediated  through  her  own  sacrifice,  not 
through  that  of  a  substitute.  Thus  she  becomes  an 
exemplar,  since  every  human  being  is  to  bear  manfully 
his  burden  and  not  to  put  it  upon  another.  In  spite 
of  himself  Racine  turns  our  sympathy  toward  the  poor 
outcast  Eriphile,  who  is  the  child  of  adverse  fate,  with 
out  any  fault  of  her  own. 

Whatever  be  the  exceptions  which  are  now  taken  to 
the  play  of  Racine,  it  has  met  in  times  past  with  ex 
traordinary  favor.  Voltaire  has  called  it  the  tragedy 


IPHIGENIA.  209 

of  all  ages  and  of  all  nations,  which  is  as  near  to  per 
fection  as  human  effort  can  be.  Undoubtedly  it  has 
dramatic  movement;  it  has  a  skillful  evolution  of  a 
plot ;  it  has  minor  situations  which  are  effective ;  it 
has  striking  and  even  subtle  reflections.  But  the 
grand  dramatic,  or  rather,  poetic  problem  of  all  times 
and  of  all  peoples,  the  reconciliation  of  man  with  the 
divine  order  of  the  world,  is  not  illuminated  but  dark 
ened  by  the  play ;  the  providential  plan  of  the  deity 
stands  above  the  poor  mortal,  like  an  iron  heaven,  which 
may  fall  at  any  moment  and  crush  him.  Was  not  this 
the  French  consciousness  of  the  time  of  Louis  the 
Fourteenth?  Arbitrary  power  with  absolute  submis 
sion  of  the  individual  is  the  supreme  law  both  in 
church  and  state.  So  Racine  mirrored  his  own  period, 
which  for  us  is  happily  past,  and  which  in  itself  was 
but  a  fleeting  and  not  an  eternal  phase  of  the 
ages. 

What  we  now  demand  is  a  true  unfolding  of  the 
legend  into  modern  life,  yet  with  its  universal  thought 
of  reconciliation.  First  of  all,  we  must  have  some 
valid  reason  for  that  command  of  the  Goddess,  by 
which  the  father  is  to  sacrifice  the  daughter.  Aga 
memnon  must  have  done  some  guilty  act,  which  is  thus 
to  be  expiated.  The  old  legend  gave  several  grounds, 
all  of  them  insufficient,  it  is  true,  for  the  wrath  of 
Artemis,  the  Goddess  of  purity,  against  the  leader  of 
the  Greeks.  Even  the  deity  must  not  be  arbitrary, 
but  rational,  and  the  divine  command  is  not  to  be  ex 
ternal  merely, but  transparent  to  reason.  Thus  dramatic 
art  is  truly  a  guide  and  an  illumination. 

In  Iphigenia,  we  are  to  see  that  the  sacrifice  makes 
her  character,  and  the  deed  is  her  completion.  To 
substitute  another  person  is  really  her  death.  Even 
the  rescue  by  the  Goddess  is  not  to  be  dispensed  with, 
but  is  to  be  made  internal  likewise,  and  thus  trans 
figured  into  a  spiritual  act  of  liberty.  The  poet  must 
show  that  Iphigenia  just  through  her  sacrifice  being 
voluntary,  is  saved  in  the  divine  sense.  If  she  had  not 
given  her  life  willingly,  then  she  had  found  no  salva- 

14 


210  IPHIGENIA. 

lion.  And  that  life  must  be  taken,  else  the  offering 
has  no  necessity. 

Calchas,  too,  must  be  transformed.  He  is  to  be 
not  the  mere  mouth-piece  of  divine  tyranny  and 
cruelty ;  he  must  be  the  interpreter  of  the  God,  and 
explain  unto  men  the  divine  oracles.  A  true  priest  is 
also  a  seer.  In  like  manner  all  the  other  characters, 
while  retaining  their  personal  traits,  are  to  be  illumi 
nated  from  the  great  central  light.  Achilles,  as  hero 
and  as  lover,  is  to  see  what  sacrifice  means,  especially 
the  sacrifice  of  Iphigenia.  So  all  the  host,  when  it 
sets  sail,  is  to  feel  her  spirit  in  itself,  that  spirit  of 
sacrifice  which  the  Trojan  war  demanded  of  every 
true  Greek.  He  too,  though  innocent,  is  to  meet 
death  that  the  guilty  one  be  restored. 

I  may  have  done  scant  justice  to  this  play  of  Racine, 
but  after  a  repeated  reading  of  it  I  feel  the  alien  ele 
ment  still.  Many  parallels  have  been  drawn  between 
the  French  and  the  Greek  poet  in  their  treatment  of 
the  present  theme.  A  French  writer  states  that  before 
the  time  of  La  Harpe,  these  parallels  gave  the  superi 
ority  to  Racine ;  but  that  recently,  say  during  the  last 
hundred  years,  Euripides  has  had  the  preference.  If 
this  statement  be  true,  French  criticism  no  longer  sup 
ports  the  lofty  claim  made  for  this  play  by  Voltaire. 

The  Iphigenia  at  Taurisby  Euripides.  —  The  follow 
ing  short  abstract  touches  the  main  incidents :  Iphi 
genia,  who  is  now  far  away  from  Greece  at 
Tauris,  on  the  shores  of  the  Black  Sea,  and  is 
priestess  there  in  the  temple  of  Artemis,  has  had  a 
dream  which  she  interprets  as  indicating  the  death 
of  her  brother  Orestes,  to  whom  she  will,  accord 
ingly,  pay  funeral  rites.  In  the  mean  time,  Orestes 
with  his  friend  Pylades  has  reached  the  coast  of 
Tauris,  in  obedience  to  an  oracle  of  Apollo,  who 
has  told  him  to  bring  back  the  sacred  image  of  his 
sister,  which  fell  from  heaven,  to  the  land  of  the 
Athenians,  when  he  (Orestes)  would  be  free  of  the 
pursuit  of  the  Furies.  The  two  strangers  are  brought 
into  the  presence  of  Iphigenia  for  sacrifice,  as  it  is 


IPHIGENIA.  211 

the  custom  of  the  Taurians  to  immolate  all  strang 
ers  to  their  Goddess.  After  some  conversation,  and 
chiefly  by  means  of  a  letter,  Iphigenia  and  Orestes, 
sister  and  brother,  come  to  know  each  other,  and  we 
have  the  scene  of  the  recognition.  Then  follows  the 
plan  of  escape  for  all  three,  as  Iphigenia  also  longs  to 
return  to  Hellas.  She  rejects  the  advice  to  kill  the 
King,  Thoas,  but  is  ready  to  deceive  him  by  using 
his  superstitious  faith.  All  three  escape  to  the  sea- 
coast  with  the  image,  and  actually  embark,  when  the 
stratagem  is  discovered,  and  is  told  to  Thoas  by  a 
messenger.  The  King  is  on  hand  to  seize  them,  when 
the  ship  is  driven  back  to  the  shore  by  winds  and  cur 
rents.  When  all  seems  lost,  Minerva  appears,  and 
commands  Thoas  to  let  the  fugitives  depart  in  peace 
for  their  own  land  and  take  with  them  the  sacred  im 
age,  which  is  to  have  a  special  temple  at  Attica,  and 
Iphigenia  is  to  be  a  priestess  at  Brauron  in  the  land  of 
"God-built  Athens." 

Dramatic  life  there  is  in  this  piece  of  Euripides  and 
continuous  movement.  It  has  two  leading  points 
which  will  always  strongly  engage  the  interest  of  an 
audience.  These  are  the  recognition  and  the  flight. 
The  sister,  as  every  spectator  sees,  is  about  to  sacrifice 
unwittingly  her  own  brother ;  will  she  find  out  who  he 
is  ?  This  interest  the  poet  has  skillfully  used  and  in 
tensified,  up  to  the  point  of  recognition.  The  next 
matter  is  the  escape  of  the  three  Greeks,  and  the  suc 
cess  of  the  stratagem.  This  part  is  not  so  well  handled 
as  the  previous  one,  still  the  interest  does  not  droop. 
The  least  happy  portion  of  the  drama  is  the  last,  in 
which  Minerva'  appears  ;  this  Deus  ex  macJiina  seems 
unnecessary,  as  the  fugitives  had  already  escaped ;  still 
they  are  brought  back,  that  the  Goddess  might 
appear. 

Compared  with  Iphigenia  at  Aulis  of  the  same 
author,  this  drama  is  a  falling  off.  It  has  not  the  same 
unity  in  thought  and  construction.  But  above  all,  the 
character  of  Iphigenia  is  not  maintained  at  the  same 
height.  Here  she  has  not  the  spirit  of  sacrifice  which 


212  IPHIGENIA. 

we  beheld  gleaming  forth  from  her  look  and  utterance 
there ;  still  less  does  she  show  the  spirit  of  her  mission. 
She  has  done  little  to  tame  and  humanize  the  wild  bar 
barians;  she  still  sacrifices  human  beings  to  the 
Goddess,  according  to  the  old  cruel  customs  of 
savages ;  she  shows  many  indications  of  spite  and 
revenge  against  her  father  and  others  who  had  a  share 
in  the  doings  at  Aulis.  She  sighs,  in  thenai-row  spirit 
of  the  Greek,  to  quit  the  barbarous  land  for  Athens, 
"a  happy  city."  This  is  not  the  Iphigenia  whom 
we  beheld  in  the  glory  of  self-sacrifice  at  Aulis.  If  the 
present  play  was  written  as  a  continuation  of  the 
Iphigenia  at  Aulis,  Euripides  had  lost,  not  so  much  his 
dramatic,  as  his  spiritual  power,  of  which  he  possesses 
at  times  a  considerable  spark,  in  spite  of  his  skeptical 
tendencies. 

Notwithstanding  these  drawbacks,  the  story  of  the 
drama  is  infinitely  suggestive.  Here  again  we  feel  that 
the  legend  which  is  the  creation  of  the  people  is  far 
greater  and  deeper  than  its  poet.  The  Greek  woman, 
going  as  priestess  to  barbaric  lands,  is  verily  a 
prophetic  figure,  and  the  prophecy  is  still  being  ful 
filled.  She  is  the  hint  of  the  future  illumination,  she  is 
the  germ  of  the  teacher,  missionary,  bearer  of  light  to 
the  dark  places  of  the  world.  But  Euripides  did  not 
behold  her  and  portray  her  in  this  transfigured  shape, 
though  it  lay  in  the  legend,  that  half-articulate  voice  of 
the  people,  which  the  poet  is  to  endow  with  a  complete 
and  beautiful  utterance.  Other  points  in  the  drama 
are  profoundly  suggestive  of  the  time  that  was  then 
coming  and  still  has  not  wholly  arrived.  Iphigenia 
finds  that  the  stranger  whom  she  is  about  to  hand  over 
to  death  is  her  brother ;  a  wonderful  experience  lies  in 
that  —  nothing  less  than  that  every  stranger  may  be 
her  brother,  and  she  could  catch  from  it  a  glimpse  of 
universal  brotherhood.  Even  the  interference  of 
Minerva,  Goddess  of  "Wisdom,  who  is  to  speak  her 
word  to  the  barbarian  Thoas  with  effect,  has  its  sug 
gestion,  though  here  the  divinity  is  purely  external  in 
her  authority.  That  which  Thoas  now  does  through 


IPHIGENIA.  213 

terror,  will  yet  be  done  through  conviction,  and  the 
Goddess  will  be  inside  the  King  as  well  as  outside. 

In  the  present  drama,  accordingly,  Euripides  shows 
himself  a  skillful  playwright,  but  not  the  far-glancing 
seer  with  his  woi-ld-bearing  words.  Yet  the  legend 
seems  to  be  calling  for  the  poet  who  is  also  the  seer. 
Many,  in  the  course  of  time,  have  answered  the  call 
and  have  re-writteu  this  Iphigenia  at  Tauris.  Of  these 
answers,  ancient  and  modern,  none  are  at  present 
heard  by  men  with  any  distinctness,  if  we  make  one  ex 
ception.  Goethe,  our  last  supreme  poet,  has  told  again 
the  tale  of  Iphigenia  at  Tauris  in  dramatic  form,  and 
we  may  now  make  a  short  study  of  the  legend  as  he 
has  unfolded  it. 

Iphigenia  at  Tauris  by  Goethe.  —  The  thought  of  this 
poem  and  the  suggestion  of  it  lay  in  the  Spirit  of  the 
Time  (in  the  Zeitgeist)  as  well  as  in  the  individual  poet. 
In  Goethe's  boyhood  (1757)  a  French  Iphigenia  at 
Tauris  by  Guymond  de  la  Touche  made  an  extraordi 
nary  sensation  at  Paris,  the  echo  of  which  went  through 
Germany.  In  1779,  the  same  year  in  which  Goethe's 
first  prose  sketch  was  made,  a  musical  Iphigenia  at  Tauris 
rang  through  Europe,  in  Gluck's  glorious  opera  of  this 
name.  Even  Racine  had  made  a  plan  of  an  Iphi 
genia  at  Tauris,  first  published  in  1747,  in  which  the 
son  of  Thoas  is  the  lover  of  Iphigenia,  who  was  res 
cued  at  Aulis  and  borne  to  Tauris  by  pirates,  and  not 
by  the  Goddess  Artemis.  Thus  Racine  shows  at  the 
start  the  love  intrigue  and  the  abolition  of  the  divine 
element.  There  was  a  struggle  in  the  century  to  em 
body  this  great  legend ;  Goethe,  the  poet  of  the  age, 
felt  the  struggle,  and  wrought  at  the  task  for  many 
years  till  he  succeeded.  But  he,  with  the  others,  leans 
upon  the  old  Greek,  Euripides,  and  the  main  study 
is  to  trace  the  evolution  of  the  ancient  poem  into  the 
modern. 

The  first  fact  that  comes  up  before  the  mind  in  this 
comparative  view  is  that  Goethe's  Iphigenia  at  Tauris 
shows  itself  to  be,  in  its  external  features,  quite  the 
same  as  that  of  Euripides.  The  setting  is  the  same, 


214  IPHIGENIA. 

both  actions  are  placed  at  Tauris  in  a  barbarous  land. 
Then  many  incidents  are  common  to  the  two  dramas  : 
the  priesthood  of  the  Greek  woman,  the  arrival  of  her 
brother  Orestes  pursued  by  the  Furies,  the  recognition, 
the  scheme  to  escape  to  Hellas,  the  final  departure. 
Then  too,  the  characters  have  the  same  names  for  the 
most  part,  and  the  same  external  outlines  in  the  two 
dramas. 

Such  is  the  similarity ;  now  for  the  difference.  In 
spirit  two  works  could  not  be  more  unlike.  Euripides 
is  narrowly  Greek,  Goethe  is  universal.  In  the  hands 
of  the  German  poet,  the  Hellenic  features  are  trans 
muted  into  those  of  humanity.  Hellenism  there  is  in 
Goethe's  poem,  but  not  that  Hellenism  which  contemns 
the  Barbarian  with  a  provisional  exclusiveness.  The 
Hellenism  of  Goethe  is  that  which  has  taken  up  and 
transformed  the  barbarous  world.  This  is  the  wonder 
ful  poetic  alchemy;  Euripides  is  not  equal  to  his 
legend;  Goethe  unfolds  it  into  the  modern  age. 
Thus,  while  it  is  old,  it  is  also  new.  This  poetic  trans 
figuration  we  shall  try  to  trace  in  a  few  details. 

In  the  first  place,  Tauris  is  no  longer  a  particular 
spot  merely:  it  means  all  Barbary,  or  the  modern 
world,  which  Greek  culture  has  helped  to  civilize. 
The  poet  calls  himself  a  Barbarian  in  the  Roman 
Elegies ;  he  is  now  celebrating  what  the  Hellenic 
spirit  has  done  for  him  and  for  his  race.  Tauris,  from 
the  bleak  inhospitable  locality  in  the  North,  such  as 
we  find  it  in  Euripides,  is  transfigured  into  a  world. 

In  the  second  place  the  incidents  become  radiant 
with  new  meaning.  The  stay  of  Iphigenia  is  now  not 
merely  a  separation,  a  banishment  from  home,  but  is 
a  priestly  work.  She  has  tamed  the  savages,  she  has 
done  away  with  human  sacrifices.  She  has  trans 
formed  the  king  and  people.  Orestes,  too,  is  to 
receive  spirtual  help  from  her.  The  stealing  of  the 
image  of  Diana  is  changed  into  a  taking  of  the  priestess 
home,  for  she  is  the  true  image  which  is  to  be  restored 
to  Greece.  In  all  these  matters  we  behold  a  rich 
inner  life  develop  out  of  what  seemed  only  external 


IPHIGENIA.  215 

events.  We  also  see  an  old  legend  with  its  dim  in 
stincts  and  suggestions  unfold  into  the  clear  trans 
parent  fullness  of  time.  The  poem  must  be  perused 
with  this  illumination  of  the  inner  light  else  it  is  dark 
indeed. 

In  the  third  place,  the  characters  show  the  same 
transfigured  spirit  within.  Iphigenia  wishes  to  return 
home  it  is  true,  but  this  is  to  be  after  her  work  is  done, 
after  her  second  great  sacrifice  has  been  made.  How 
different  from  the  Iphigeuia  of  Euripides,  as  he  por 
trays  her  at  Tauris !  In  Goethe,  she  will  not  resort  to 
deception,  she  abandons  Greek  lying  and  cunning,  and 
tells  all  to  Thoas.  She  is  truly  a  priestly,  consecrated 
character.  Thoas,  the  King,  has  been  also  trans 
formed  ;  then  he  is  to  master  his  love.  This  love  of 
the  King  for  the  priestess  is  an  addition  of  Goethe's, 
though  it  is  said  to  be  found  in  an  old  French  drama 
on  the  same  subject,  and  may  have  been  suggested  by 
Racine's  sketch.  Orestes,  too,  is  transformed,  he 
finds  that  it  is  not  the  outer  image  of  the  Goddess  which 
he  must  take  away,  but  Iphigenia  herself.  That  is  the 
cure  of  his  madness. 

From  many  points  of  view  Goethe's  poem  is  worthy 
of  careful  study.  Jt  shows  the  true  treatment  of  a 
great  legend,  making  it  unfold  with  time  into  all  that 
time  has  unfolded.  Some  have  called  it  a  pure  specimen 
of  the  antique,  others  have  declared  it  to  be  a  modern 
poem  with  an  ancient  name.  It  is  really  both  Greek  and 
Teutonic,  old  and  new,  an  image  of  the  spirit  clothing 
itself  in  classic  and  romantic  art.  If  it  were  a  mere 
imitation  or  reproduction  of  a  Greek  drama,  its  value 
would  be  small.  Again  it  is  said  to  lack  dramatic  life. 
It  is  doubtless  somewhat  deficient  in  outer  incident, 
and  its  movement  on  the  surface  seems  too  tranquil ; 
but  its  wealth  of  inner  experience  is  not  easily  ex 
hausted,  and  a  continued  activity  of  the  spirit  it  has. 
It  is  more  a  drama  of  the  soul  than  of  incident.  We 
may  fairly  say,  it  is  the  best  embodiment  of  the  Iphi 
genia  legend. 

Very  naturally   such  a  production  was  not  under- 


216  IPHIGENIA. 

stood  in  its  own  time.  It  had  to  create  its  readers, 
yes,  to  develop  them  with  the  years.  It  retained  the 
dramatic  form,  yet  its  relation  to  the  stage  was  a  matter 
of  doubt.  Three  hours  of  the  theater  cannot  report  a 
development,  which  has  required  three  thousand  years. 
The  poem  demands  time,  not  for  the  scene  to  shift, 
but  for  the  soul  to  change.  His  friends  in  Italy,  in 
which  classic  land  he  gave  to  it  the  final  form,  and  his 
friends  in  Weimar,  had  not,  as  lie  very  mildly  hints, 
any  just  appreciation  of  the  work.  It  was  clearly  a 
failure  at  the  start.  Fifteen  years  after  its  appearance, 
it  was  acted  for  the  first  time,  yet  with  a  good  many 
modifications,  which  still  indicated  a  lack  of  apprecia 
tion. 

Thus  Goethe's  poem  reflects  a  long  chapter  of  the 
world's  history.  But  it  also  reflects  a  chapter  of  the 
poet's  own  history.  The  development  of  the  world 
and  the  development  of  the  world's  poet  mirror  each 
other.  The  poem  was  not  of  sudden  conception  and 
execution  ;  it  was  itself  a  growth,  a  development  of  ten 
or  a  dozen  years.  He  first  wrote  it  down  in  1779, 
though  he  had  already  been  carrying  it  around  with 
himself  and  working  it  over  in  his  mind  for  several 
years.  This  first  shape  was  in  prose.  He  transformed 
it  into  meter  in  Italy.  The  change  corresponds  to  a 
great  change  in  the  poet  himself.  The  wild  period  of 
Storm  and  Stress  passes  into  the  serene  classicism  of 
the  Italian  period.  Goethe  himself  was  tamed  by  his 
long  stay  with  Iphigenia ;  the  modern  Barbarian  records 
his  own  transformation.  Even  before  this  final  recon 
struction  in  Italy,  the  poem  had  several  re-modelings, 
no  less  than  five  according  to  Duentzer. 

Still  the  return  of  Iphigenia  to  Greece  must  be  given 
a  more  developed  form  than  even  Goethe  has  given  it. 
She  must  be  shown  doing  her  work  in  her  own  country 
as  she  has  done  it  in  Barbary,  for  she  has  an  impor 
tant  career  still  at  home.  Thoas,  too,  Barbarian  trans 
formed,  must  not  merely  permit  her  to  go  back  in  a 
passive  sort  of  way;  he  must  send  her  back,  must 
actively  restore  her  to  her  native  land ;  nay,  he  must 


IPSIQENIA.  217 

go  himself  to  Greece,  with  arms  in  hand  if  necessary. 
That  is,  the  actual  restoration  of  Iphigenia  to  Hellas  is 
the  work  of  the  Barbarian. 

When  Goethe  wrote  his  Iphigenia  at  Tauris,  time 
had  not  yet  prepared  this  content  for  his  poem ;  the 
legend  of  the  ages  had  not  yet  developed  into  the  actual 
restoration  of  Iphigenia  to  Hellas  through  the  Barbar 
ian.  But  in  the  hundred  years  since  the  first  publica 
tion  of  his  poem,  the  eternal  germ  lying  in  that  old 
story  has  marvelously  unfolded  anew,  so  that  the  whole 
legend  must  be  re-written.  The  Greek  Revolution, 
which  took  place  in  Goethe's  old  age,  more  than  thirty 
years  after  the  appearance  of  his  poem,  was  a  grand 
new  act  in  the  world-drama  of  Iphigenia ;  the  nations 
of  Europe,  Barbarians  to  the  old  Greeks,  called  Hel 
las  back  to  life  and  freedom.  And  we  must  under 
stand  that  it  was  not  Christian  Greece  which  roused 
the  sympathy  and  strength  of  Europe  (America  too 
had  a  hand  in  the  matter)  but  it  was  Heathen  Greece, 
with  its  memories,  with  the  feeling  of  gratitude  for  its 
culture.  Other  Christian  peoples  were  quietly  left 
under  the  Turkish  yoke  by  Christian  Europe,  but 
Greece  was  set  free. 

One  step  further  we  may  move  at  the  present  date. 
The  Greek  restoration  through  the  Barbarians,  has 
been  going  on  in  my  own  time.  When  I  was  in 
Greece  a  dozen  years  ago,  there  was  no  free  Thessaly. 
Now,  through  the  treaty  of  Berlin,  the  Greek  limit 
has  been  extended  northward  into  the  region  of  the 
ancient  home  of  the  Hellenic  Gods,  Mount  Olympus. 
After  centuries  of  captivity  Greece  is  gradually  get 
ting  her  own,  by  the  aid  of  the  European  Powers ;  res 
toration  is  indeed  the  great  fact  of  her  present  history, 
and  the  watchword  of  her  choicest  spirits.  And  it 
is  again  that  Barbarian,  Thoas,  who  has  not  merely 
stood  by  and  let  Iphigenia  restore  herself,  but  who  has 
helped  her  in  the  most  decisive  way,  if  not  with  arms 
in  hand  this  time,  at  least  with  gleaming  bayonets  in 
the  background. 


218  IPHIGENIA. 


DEVELOPMENT  OF  CHARACTERS. 

It  has  already  been  indicated  that  the  characters  of 
the  legend  develop  as  well  as  the  story  itself,  and  take 
new  spiritual  attributes  as  these  unfold  in  the  ages. 
Not  only  the  characters  of  the  legend,  but  also  those 
of  the  great  works  of  art,  and  for  that  matter  those 
of  real  life,  are  not  of  to-day  nor  of  yesterday  merely ; 
they  are  the  apparent  gift  of  the  moment  of  time  in 
which  they  come  to  light,  but  in  a  deeper  sense  they 
are  the  products  of  all  time,  and  have  a  spiritual 
lineage  which  runs  back  through  the  past,  often 
traceable  to  the  twilight  of  the  race.  Thus  it  is  with 
the  Iphigenia  legend,  its  personages  have  had  many 
literary  incarnations,  which  can  be  followed  historically, 
if  not  to  their  beginning  in  time,  at  least  to  their  be 
ginning  in  letters.  We  shall  now  give  a  little  attention 
to  its  leading  characters  separately,  and  study  each  of 
them  in  its  historic  unfolding.  Hitherto  we  hare  seen 
how  the  legend  as  a  whole  develops ;  at  present  we 
shall  consider  the  history  of  its  individuals,  tracing  it 
down  from  Homer  to  our  own  time,  and  even  taking  a 
glance  into  the  future.  The  three  main  personages 
only  will  be  considered  —  Iphigenia,  Orestes,  Thoas. 
The  other  characters,  compared  to  these,  are  incidental 
and  may  be  omitted. 

Iphigenia.  (1.)  In  Homer,  the  daughter  of  Aga 
memnon,  Iphianassa,  is  not  sacrificed  at  Aulis,  but  is 
at  home  during  the  Trojan  War.  Still  there  is  a  great 
sacrifice,  both  of  Greek  men  and  Greek  women,  tak 
ing  place  through  that  war ;  thus  the  germinal  thought 
of  the  character  lies  already  in  Homer. 

(2. )  In  ^Eschylus  and  Sophocles,  Iphigenia  appears, 
and  is  the  first  grand  sacrifice,  imaging  all  others.  But 
she  is  an  involuntary  one,  it  would  seem,  and  is  not 
and  cannot  be  rescued  by  the  Goddess  at  Aulis. 

(3.)  In  Euripides,  she  is  not  only  a  sacrifice,  but 
rises  to  being  a  voluntary  one,  through  her  own  char 
acter.  A  great  and  noble  addition  is  this  trait ;  then 
she  is  rescued  by  the  Goddess,  and  taken  to  Bar- 


IPHIGENIA.  219 

bary.  But  she  is  not  seen  to  have  any  special  mission 
there  among  the  Barbarians. 

(4. )  In  Goethe,  she  has  the  missionary  spirit,  she 
humanizes  Barbary.  She  also  exercises  a  healing  in 
fluence  over  her  brother,  Orestes,  who  is  pursued  by 
the  Furies. 

(5.)  In  the  future  unfolding  of  the  legend,  the  re 
turn  of  Iphigenia  to  Hellas  must  be  fully  set  forth. 
Both  Euripides  and  Goethe  have  this  return,  but  they 
motive  it  on  her  part  by  a  subjective  longing  to  get 
back  home,  a  kind  of  nostalgia.  This  is  well  enough 
as  far  as  it  goes  ;  but  we  must  also  be  shown  that  she 
has  a  mission  in  Greece  too,  that  she  is  to  save  it  as  she 
has  saved  Barbary.  Thus  her  return  has  a  real  ob 
jective  ground,  and  is  not  simply  her  desire  or  caprice 
or  home-sickness.  Otherwise  it  were  the  higher  thing 
to  stay  at  Tauris  and  continue  her  work.  It  is  true 
that  Goethe  has  several  hints  which  look  in  this  direc 
tion,  but  they  are  not  developed.  One  thinks  that  his 
Iphigenia  at  Delphi,  had  he  ever  written  it,  would  have 
unfolded  on  these  lines. 

Orestes.  ( 1. )  In  Homer,  Orestes  is  simply  mentioned 
as  the  son  of  Agamemnon,  a  boy  at  home,  undevel 
oped.  The  Furies  are  also  noticed  in  Homer,  but  in 
no  connection  with  Orestes ;  they  too  are  undeveloped. 

(2. )  In  -<Eschylus,  the  next  great  poet,  both  Orestes 
and  the  Furies  are  developed  with  unsurpassed  power, 
in  the  grand  dramatic  Trilogy,  called  the  Oresteia, 
after  the  name  of  the  hero.  Orestes  slays  his  mother 
who  has  slain  his  father,  and  he  is  pursued  by  the  Furies 
for  the  deed.  Then  he  is  delivered  by  a  decision  of 
the  court  of  Areiopagns  at  Athens,  in  which  the  God 
dess  Pallas  Athena  has  the  casting  vote.  Great  and 
true  and  impressive  is  this  solution,  whereby  institu 
tional  authority  puts  an  end  to  private  vengeance,  or 
the  need  of  it,  on  the  one  hand,  and, on  the  other,  puts 
an  end  to  the  pursuit  of  the  Furies.  There  can  be  no 
doubt  that  ^Eschylus  has  written,  in  his  Oresteia,  one 
of  the  great  world-poems,  which  embodies  not  merely 
poetry  and  characters,  but  an  epochal  moment  of 


220  IPHIQENIA. 

Time,  a  turning-point  in  Aryan  civilization.  Still 
.jEschylus  springs  directly  from  Homer,  is  a  Greek  un 
folding  of  the  first  Greek  poet.  Thus  he  comes  after 
Homer  both  in  time  and  in  magnitude. 

In  Sophocles  also  we  find  an  Orestes  portrayed  in 
the  drama  called  Electro,,  which  shows  changes  from 
JEschylus,  especially  in  the  dramatic  handling  of  the 
story,  but  there  is  no  noteworthy  development  in  the 
spirit  of  the  legend. 

(3.)  In  Euripides,  Orestes  again  appears,  still  pur 
sued  by  the  Furies,  a  part  of  whom  refused  to  acquiesce 
in  the  decision  of  the  Areiopagus.  Thus  Euripides 
notices  the  solution  of  ^Eschylus,  but  does  not  fully  ac 
cept  it.  That  is,  though  the  outer  law  may  set  free,  the 
inner  sense  of  guilt  remains,  and  some  of  the  Furies 
still  hunt  the  man  of  sin.  Therefore  a  new  process  of 
purification  is  laid  upon  Orestes  by  the  oracle  of  Apollo : 
he  must  bring  back  the  sacred  image  of  the  sister  from 
Tauris  to  Greece.  Deeply  hintful  is  this  command  of 
the  Oracle ;  but  Euripides,  in  his  Iphigenia  at  Tauris, 
is  purely  external  in  his  treatment  of  the  legend  and 
loses  the  soul  of  the  whole  story ;  he  makes  no  inner 
connection  between  this  act  of  bringing  back  the  sacred 
image,  and  the  diseased  spirit  of  the  man  who  is  there 
by  to  be  healed. 

(4. )  In  Goethe  also  Orestes  is  pursued  by  the  Furies, 
and  comes  into  the  presence  of  his  sister,  who  has  the 
power  of  soothing  their  attack.  But  the  grand  contri 
bution  of  Goethe  to  the  legend  at  this  point  is,  that  the 
external  necessity  of  bringing  off  the  sacred  image  falls 
away ;  the  sacred  image  which  is  to  be  restored  to 
Greece  is  the  sister  herself,  with  her  twenty  years  of 
sacrifice,  and  not  that  rude  Taurian  block  of  wood. 
Thus  the  Teutonic  poet,  in  a  way  not  only  beautiful 
but  soul-illuminating,  internalizes  and  truly  interprets 
Euripides,  or  rather  unfolds  the  old  legend  into  its 
true  significance.  The  ugly  theft  of  the  outer 
semblance  of  the  Goddess  from  the  Barbarians  is 
wholly  done  away  with,  and  banished  forever  from  the 
legend,  and  the  modern  seer  with  impressive  strength 


IPHIGENIA.  221 

and  sweetness  brings  to  light  a  great  and  deeply  puri 
fying  conception,  which  reaches  up  and  touches  the 
heart  of  universal  religion. 

(5.)  Yet  beyond  Goethe  we  must  go.  We  must  un 
fold  into  completeness  what  Orestes  brought  back  in 
his  sister,  of  what  spiritual  disease  she  cures  him,  but 
above  all,  in  what  way  she  is  to  be  helpful  to  her  coun 
try,  and  to  cure  it  too.  Orestes  is  not  merely  himself 
but  also  Greece,  which  is  harassed  by  the  Furies  and 
Fates.  But  Iphigenia,  through  her  life,  has  gotten  rid 
of  the  limit  of  Barbary ;  this  was  a  real  Fate  to  ancient 
Greece,  which  was  destined  to  perish,  at  least  as  a  na 
tion,  through  the  old  Barbarians.  She  has  also  gotten 
nd  of  the  Furies,  the  vengeance  which  ever  begets 
vengeance,  not  simply  in  an  external  sense,  but  chiefly 
in  the  bosom  of  the  man  who  cherishes  it.  Thus  there 
is  to  be  a  priestly  service  of  Iphigenia  at  Delphi,  the 
spiritual  center  of  the  Hellenic  world. 

Thoas.  (1.)  In  Homer,  we  may  note  the  first  glim 
mer  of  the  distinction  between  Greeks  and  Barbarians, 
the  latter  being  marked  off  in  one  passage  by  their 
manner  of  speech.  Still  in  this  case  it  may  have  been 
only  one  of  the  ruder  Greek  dialects.  Very  significant 
is  the  fact  that  the  earliest  and  greatest  poet  of  the 
Greeks  hardly  reveals  that  limit  and  prejudice  of  race, 
which  at  last  became  hardened  into  Fate,  into  their 
very  destiny.  Hence  there  can  be  no  Thoas  in  Homer. 

(2.)  In  JEschylus  and  Sophocles,  the  distinction  be 
tween  Greek  and  Barbarian  has  become  developed ;  in 
fact,  it  is  firmly  fixed  in  the  Greek  national  charac 
ter,  a  limit  which  it  will  take  ages  to  overcome,  and 
indeed  a  reconstruction  of  the  world.  It  is  the  dark 
demonic  element  which  grew  out  of  the  struggle  for 
Greek  freedom  against  the  Persian.  JEschylus  and 
Sophocles  have  no  Iphigenia  at  Tauris,  could  not  well 
have  in  their  time,  and  hence  they  have  no  Thoas,  the 
representative  of  the  Barbarians.  Still  they  have  the 
distinction. 

(3.)  In  Euripides,  Thoas  first  appears,  the  barbar 
ous  king  of  Barbarians,  the  embodiment  of  that  great 


222  IPHIGENIA. 

outlying  world  to  the  North  of  Greece,  not  to  the 
East  as  in  JEschylus.  Thoas  is  portrayed  by  Euri 
pides,  as  cruel,  superstitious,  ignorant,  in  fine  as  the 
contrast  to  the  beautiful  and  cultured  Greek  of  Athens. 
But  it  is  a  wonderful  step  in  the  growth  of  the  legend 
to  see  Barbary  incarnated  in  one  person. 

(4.)  In  Goethe,  Thoas  has  been  humanized  by  the 
long  stay  of  the  Greek  priestess.  Thus  he  stands  for 
the  many  ages  of  development  which  lie  between  the 
Hellenic  and  Teutonic  poet,  the  latter  of  whom  is 
now  the  Barbarian.  Still  Thoas  has  the  danger  of  re 
lapsing  into  savagery  through  disappointed  love.  But 
even  this  last  sparkle  of  desire  for  the  selfish  pos 
session  of  what  is  spiritual,  is  suppressed  though  not  ex 
tinguished;  his  individual  love  is  subdued  if  not 
reconciled  by  the  priestess,  and  he  permits  her  to  re 
turn  home  in  peace.  Somewhat  sullen  perhaps,  cer 
tainly  cold  and  passive  is  that  last  word  of  his  to  the 
parting  Iphigenia:  "  Farewell." 

(5.)  This  character  can  be  developed  much  beyond 
what  we  find  in  Goethe ;  indeed  time  has  brought  out 
such  a  development,  as  before  said,  since  the  appear 
ance  of  Goethe's  poem.  Thoas,  the  Barbarian,  must 
not  merely  suffer  Iphigenia  to  return  to  Hellas,  he  must 
bring  her  back,  he  must  go  himself  and  help  her 
in  her  new  work.  Then  the  historical  measure  of  the 
legend  will  be  filled  up  to  date,  and  may  voicelessly 
await  its  next  grand  epoch  of  expression.  What  she 
has  done  for  him  and  his  world,  he  must  do  for  her 
and  her  world.  The  final  restoration  of  Iphigenia  to 
Hellas  has  been  and  is  to  be  the  work  of  Barbarians, 
yet  with  active  co-operation  on  her  part. 

We  are  inclined  to  think  that  Goethe  himself  rubbed 
against  the  bounds  of  his  present  drama.  In  Italy, 
when  he  began  to  transform  his  earlier  work,  and  re 
think  it  all  with  the  new  experience,  the  conception  of 
an  Iphigenia  at  Delphi  rose  in  his  mind,  as  the  com 
pletion  of  the  legend.  Hardly  otherwise  could  it  have 
been,  for  he  is  the  limit-transcending  seer  as  well  as 
the  limit-fixing  poet  of  these  modern  days ;  what  stirs 


IPHIGENIA.  223 

him  temporarily,  often  has  a  far-reaching  significance 
prophetic  of  worlds  yet  to  rise.  He  never  completed 
even  a  full  scheme  of  the  new  drama ;  he  had  too  much 
other  work  partially  finished,  which  called  for  comple 
tion.  So  he  resolutely  brought  to  an  end  his  Iphigenia, 
at  TauriSj  which  was  already  written  in  prose,  and  left 
his  unfinished  idea  to  the  future. 

Besides  these  three  characters  —  Iphigenia,  Orestes, 
Thoas  —  there  are  some  minor  characters,  like  Calchas 
and  Pylades,  which  might  be  developed  on  the  same 
historical  lines.  Calchas  would  show  the  priestly  func 
tion  of  the  man  developing  from  the  old  to  the  new, 
though  that  function  is  seen  in  its  highestjpower  in 
the  woman  of  the  legend,  Iphigenia.  Pylades  would 
reveal  the  conception  of  friendship,  as  it  unfolds  from 
the  ancient  view  into  that  of  our  own  era.  In  fact, 
some  dramas  in  antiquity  (as  the  Dulorestes)  and  some 
in  modern  times  (several  on  the  French  stage)  have 
made  the  friendship  of  Orestes  and  Pylades  the  center 
of  the  dramatic  interest.  Such  a  poetic  treatment, 
however,  does  not  embrace  the  universal  sweep  of  the 
legend,  but  simply  follows  out  one  of  its  subordinate 
branches. 

Still  the  main  interest  and  value  of  the  study  of  the 
Iphigenia  legend  is  to  behold  the  whole  of  it  from  be 
ginning  to  end,  in  all  the  forms  which  it  has  taken 
through  time,  and  to  see  it  unfolding  with  the  race  and 
mirroring  the  entire  course  of  civilization.  Thus  the 
eye  and  the  soul  become  opened  to  the  grand  signifi 
cance  of  the  legend  in  the  education  of  mankind,  es 
pecially  of  infant  mankind  ;  we  see  too  that  it  marks 
out  the  path  and  the  sweep  of  the  world's  literature; 
it  bears  also  the  suggestion,  if  not  the  doctrine,  of  an 
universal  religion.  Such  a  legend  truly  teaches  spirit 
ual  development,  with  its  twofold  correspondence*  in 
the  race  and  in  the  individual,  as  the  grand  fact  of  the 
world's  history.  Shall  we  not  say  that  the  movement 
of  humanity  is  imaged  together  iu  legend,  in  literature, 
and  in  religion? 

We  must,  indeed,  sympathetically  take  up  all  mani- 


224  IPHIGENIA. 

festations  into  our  spirit;  we  must  feel  that  all  the 
poems  on  the  Iphigenia  legend,  all  its  incarnations, 
literary,  musical,  mythological,  even  philosophical  and 
critical,  are  only  single  strains  which  blend  together 
and  make  one  vast  orchestral  harmony.  Then  we  have 
reached  a  true  appreciation  of  the  Iphigenia  legend. 

But  even  thus  we  are  not  done.  One  legend  only 
is  ours,  we  must  take  others  and  trace  them  to  a  like 
completion.  Many  are  these  legendary  treasures,  the 
race  has  made  them  and  preserved  them,  for  the  pop 
ular  consciousness  is  at  bottom  mythical.  We  shall 
find  every  true  legend  —  by  this  is  meant  not  a  mere 
sport  of  fancy  or  ingenious  fabrication  —  has  the  his 
tory  of  man  in  it,  wholly  or  in  part,  and  has  the  power 
of  developing  with  man.  Especially  those  legends 
which  have  flowered  into  great  poems  —  that  of  the 
struggle  between  Orient  and  Occident  in  Homer,  that 
of  the  Future  State  in  Dante,  that  of  Negation  in 
Goethe's  Faust,  —  are  the  chosen  ones  for  study  and 
contemplation,  chosen  by  the  world's  greatest  spirits 
and  set  to  the  music  of  the  spheres. 


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